


Fifty States

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Category: Glee
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, College, Coming Out, Episode: s02e22 New York, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, M/M, No Finchel Reunion, Road Trips, Y'all Realize We're Building You A Pinn Playlist Right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 62,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Puck fell in love with Finn in fifth grade over a bag of jellybeans. Six years later, the two embark on a summer-long drive across the contiguous 48 United States. Their shared goal is simple: find the right college for them both to attend. Puck's private goals are a little more complicated: help Finn get over Rachel Berry and help Finn figure out what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ohio

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completed work that will be posted chapter-by-chapter over the next several days. 
> 
> Our great thanks to David of Oz for tackling this beast. Nothing like springing a 50 chapter work on your copyeditor out of the blue, right? At least some of the chapters are short. :)

Noah Puckerman falls in love on Tuesday, February 15, 2005. He’s eleven years old and in the fifth grade, and all it takes, at least on the surface, is a bag of jellybeans. Before their teacher can tell them to be quiet and stand for the Pledge, Finn puts a bag of jellybeans on Puck’s desk, along with the announcement that he’d saved half of the jellybeans that his mom had given him for Valentine’s Day, so Puck could have half, too. 

The first thing Puck thinks of, as Finn’s telling him that, is that he could kiss Finn. He hasn’t kissed _anyone_ except his mom, his nanas, and his baby sister. He isn’t stupid, either; he knows that most people don’t like gay people. Puck isn’t sure that wanting to kiss Finn does mean _he’s_ gay, but he definitely _wants_ to kiss Finn. 

Puck doesn’t let on that day, though. He thanks Finn for the jellybeans and goes through the rest of fifth grade, a tiny piece of the back of his brain constantly aware that he wants to kiss Finn. It doesn’t take more than a few weeks before Puck puts that together with being in love with Finn. Maybe it should bother him, falling in love with his best friend at age eleven, but it doesn’t, at least not for about a year. 

Middle school means a lot of things. More homework. More sports after school. More people throwing around words like ‘fag’ and ‘queer’. More dances. More talk about liking girls, girlfriends, and dates. Puck doesn’t join in the teasing or the dances or the girl talk, acting like he’s above all of it. 

He doesn’t join in any of it until Finn announces he’s going to the sixth grade spring dance with a date. That afternoon is the first time Puck pushes someone into a locker, and it doesn’t make him feel better about Finn and whoever he’s taking to the dance, but Puck still gets a rush out of it. He puts a few people down, even though he avoids ‘fag’ and ‘queer’, and that gives Puck a rush, too. 

By the time the seventh grade dance arrives, Puck is good—really good—at talking about girls. He doesn’t care about any of them, not as anything but maybe friends, but he’s good at talking about girls, good at pretending to appreciate them, and good at talking about what he says he wants to do with them. 

He’s good at terrorizing people who look at him wrong, and he’s good at not looking at Finn the way he wants to look at him. Puck is very good at pretending to everyone else except himself, and very good at never letting on that he’s in love with Finn Hudson. That sets the tone for the rest of middle school, and maybe Puck doesn’t really like kissing girls behind the gymnasium, but somehow that goes along with pushing people into lockers, so he does it perfunctorily. 

‘Perfunctory’ is the only vocabulary word from middle school that Puck remembers, because it fits so well. He wishes that Finn’s drifting from girl to girl, in what Puck thinks are like training-wheel relationships, was more perfunctory. Sometimes he wishes that he wasn’t still in love with Finn, years after he first realized, but by the time of their eighth grade graduation, Puck just accepts that the happy feeling when he looks at Finn’s face—well, that’s probably sticking around. He’s going to go to high school in love with his best friend, and when he gets on the bus for the first day of ninth grade, he has a feeling he’ll feel the same way when they graduate. 

High school is a new set of expectations. A new set of actions to learn, including throwing people in dumpsters and playing pranks on their houses. More girls, and he has to somehow convince them he’s at least marginally into them. Puck isn’t sure if he’s actually gay or just bisexual and fixated on Finn to the point that he can’t really get into being with anyone else. Whether he’s gay or bi, the fixated part seems to be true, because he looks around at the guys and no one else catches his interest. 

Sometimes he gets mad. Puck gets so mad, in fact, that his mom starts talking about how he has an anger management problem. He’s mad that he doesn’t enjoy Santana Lopez rubbing up against his dick. He’s mad that no matter what he does, he wants to kiss Finn. He’s mad that Finn has girls falling all over themselves in his direction, and he’s mad that Finn seems to like that. He’s mad that part of his role to get through high school involves throwing people in dumpsters, and he’s mad at himself that he actually likes throwing people in dumpsters. He walks around in a near–constant state of anger, except when he knows he’s supposed to appear happy or whatever else, and sometimes he does stupid stuff when he’s angry. 

One day he grabs a fire extinguisher and empties it into the bathroom nearest his locker. He puts peanut butter in locks on random lockers. He throws pee balloons at people, and he helps nail lawn furniture to someone’s roof. He pushes people into lockers and he gets detentions, and one day he’s so mad about his life and Finn that he sleeps with Quinn Fabray. 

That doesn’t work out well at all; the next thing Puck knows, Quinn’s knocked up with his kid and lying about it to Finn, and that gives Puck even more shit to be angry about. Puck had figured by seventh grade or so that he wouldn’t be having kids, because he couldn’t exactly get Finn pregnant or vice versa. Now, suddenly at fifteen, he’s fathered a kid, and worse, everyone thinks that it’s Finn’s kid. It’s that anger that propels him when he hooks up with both April Rhodes _and_ Matt Rutherford, and he keeps sleeping with Santana, because the distractions aren’t enough, but they’re enough to keep him quiet about the baby. Maybe, if he does everything Quinn wants him to do, she’ll let him at least see his kid. Maybe he can be Uncle Puck or some stupid name. 

Finn finds out, though, about who the baby’s father is and what Puck did, and it’s the first time that Finn looks as angry as Puck feels every day. He can’t fight back, but he gets a grim satisfaction out of how mad Finn is. For once, Puck thinks, Finn can feel as mad about being Puck’s friend as Puck feels about being _only_ Finn’s friend. 

The only person that could have ever gotten Puck to walk away from Finn, though, is a tiny baby girl named Beth. If Puck had had to, he would have suppressed it all, walked away, if it’d meant that Quinn would agree to keep her. He’d never be in love with Quinn, but he could love her. He’s pretty sure it’s too bad he had to be an idiot and sleep with her; they could have been good friends. He’s not naive enough to think they ever will be, now. 

Beth goes home with Rachel Berry’s biological mother, though, and Puck spends the summer angry about that, between hoping that it’s true that nurture matters more than nature when it comes to attitude and personality. Maybe with Ms. Corcoran, Beth won’t turn out anywhere near as annoying as Rachel did with her dads. Puck’s pretty sure Beth’ll be pretty, because Puck is hot and he can recognize that Quinn’s one of the prettiest girls at McKinley. Puck’s pretty sure Beth’ll be smart, too, because Quinn is crazy smart and Puck used to get As without doing any homework or extra reading or anything. Now he doesn’t, but he doesn’t even show up for class most of the time. His teachers gave up on him the first time he’d gotten written up for pushing someone into a locker; he saw it in their eyes. 

If they don’t believe in him, why should he show up for class? 

Puck gets so angry during the fall of junior year that he can’t stand his own brain. He doesn’t have Finn, not even as a friend, and he doesn’t have Beth, and everyone seems to be avoiding him. Even the dorkiest members of the glee club avoid him, for the most part. He’s not really sure, at the time or later, if he was really trying to kill himself when he drove his mom’s car into the gas station window. He is sure that he didn’t _care_ , really, if he died. 

Instead of dying, though, and instead of being even injured beyond a few cuts and a headache, the gas station worker calls the fucking cops. It takes two weeks of being in juvie, with his mom crying and prosecutors frowning sternly at Puck, before he gets released with a community service requirement. Puck thinks that’s bullshit considering the worst thing he did was destroy some property, and that wasn’t even his main goal, but that’s what happens. Two fucking weeks of juvie, community service, and a bullshit rumor about him trying to steal an ATM. 

Like he’d be out of juvie already if he’d actually tried that. He’s angry enough that he doesn’t bother to contradict anyone. He doesn’t argue about the community service, either, not after the showdown in Figgins’ office where a bunch of adults pretend to care about him. Puck learned too long ago that they don’t care. They don’t ask and they don’t care, and he shoves three freshmen into lockers and picks out another one to throw in the dumpster before he realizes that he didn’t even get the usual rush out of it. That sucks, plain and simple, and Puck settles for skipping classes, glowering, and occasionally participating in glee club assignments for most of the rest of 2010. 

Puck agrees to make out with Rachel for her stupid scheme about Finn, up until the moment he realizes that not only is he technically screwing Finn over _again_ , he’s not even enjoying it. It takes another month or so to start making things right with Finn. Puck isn’t sure what he’s hoping for. Maybe he’s stupid, actually. Maybe it’d be easier if Finn just hated him. He thought about quitting glee club entirely most of the first half of junior year, but the moment that he and Finn reconcile, he knows he could never have gone through with it. 

One, he actually sort of loves the fucking glee club, and two, he definitely loves Finn fucking Hudson.

It doesn’t make anything fun about the next few months. He watches Finn watch Rachel. He watches Finn watch Quinn. He watches while Quinn cheats on Sam with Finn. He watches while Santana does her best to expose them. He watches while Finn and Quinn date openly. He watches all of the rumors, about who might be cheating on whom, and his response to that makes him realize that in some small way, he’s matured, which is pretty funny.

Then again, part of the reason people associate him with cheating is that he’s never really cared about anyone that he’s hooked up with or dated. Not beyond friends, at best. If he were actually _with_ Finn, he knows that he wouldn’t even think about cheating, no matter what. He likes to think he’d be enough to keep Finn from cheating, too. Still, it doesn’t hurt that he made it clear to everyone his opinion on it now versus in the past. He hasn’t helped anyone cheat since his epiphany with Rachel before the new year, and he doesn’t plan on starting again. 

He feels like he’s watching himself trying to date Lauren. He’s watching a version of himself, a version that doesn’t love Finn, try to date Lauren. She’s another one, Puck thinks to himself, who would be a good friend, if things were different. A good enough friend that he helps her with her prom queen campaign, goes all in, but he doesn’t have a way to explain to her how he really feels, not without telling her about Finn. 

Puck has never told anyone at all how he feels about Finn. 

As he packs for Nationals, that’s what Puck thinks about. He’s never told anyone at all that he was in love with anyone, much less a guy, much less Finn. Only two people in the world would even guess he might be interested in guys, and Puck is pretty sure April and Matt thought he put up with Matt’s presence, the same way Matt did with Puck’s. He’s never told his mom or his nana. He never told Nana Connie before she died. He’s never told his sister, even when he corrects her assertions that boys can only marry girls and vice versa. He’s carefully never let on to anyone at school that he could be bi or gay. 

Puck still isn’t sure which it is. He just loves _Finn_ , and he’s been in love with Finn for six years. He was in love with Finn when puberty started, all through puberty, and after it, and maybe that makes him gay, because he’s only ever been interested in a guy, but it really is just one guy. Just Finn. Sometimes Puck thinks he’s damaged and can only love a few people. Maybe he loves Finn because his heart can’t figure out how to love a best friend and a significant other at the same time. Then again, he doesn't understand how someone could _not_ love Finn.

They’re leaving at 10 am on a Saturday for Nationals, and Puck goes to his mom’s bedroom at 8:30 am. 

“Hey, Mom?” 

“Yes, Noah?” His mom looks up, a little tiredly. He understands why she can’t make it to school events or football games. He knows his anger issues, as she calls them, have stressed her out, probably too much. Still, she’s his mom, and if he’s going to try this telling people thing, she’s the one to start with. He’s probably telling her for nothing, since he doesn’t see himself falling for anyone else anytime soon. 

Sometimes he hears the rumors. He’s even heard his mom talk about it on the phone, that Noah Puckerman doesn’t fall in love. That maybe he can’t. He can’t, only because he’s not one of those people who can love two people at once. 

“I’m leaving in an hour to meet everyone at McKinley,” he says, running his hand over his mohawk. “I, uh. You know when we’ll back and all. So… I need to tell you something. No. I want to.” 

“You _want_ to tell me something?” she says doubtfully, and Puck snorts a little. 

“I know, I know. It probably doesn’t matter, but I’m trying something new after the past few years. I’m not straight.” 

“You’re not straight?” she repeats, and Puck can’t read her tone at all. 

“I still haven’t figured out if I’m gay or bi,” Puck says, expecting her to scoff and say something about Quinn or Lauren. 

Instead, she starts laughing and walks over, giving him a hug. Puck stares at her, confused, and she laughs a little harder. “I’ve been wondering for years when you were going to tell me.” 

“You… knew? I didn’t tell anyone.” Puck frowns, wondering if he wrote it down once, or talked in his sleep. 

“I suspected. I didn’t know for sure. I just had strong suspicions.” She smiles at him. “Go enjoy your days in New York, Noah.”

“You’re not, you know… mad?” Puck asks, and she shakes her head, gesturing at him almost dismissively. It’s probably the best reaction Puck could have hoped for, so he backs out of her room, heading to his room to finish his packing. A trip to New York is more than he ever thought he’d have in high school, even at the beginning of the whole glee club thing.


	2. New York

The trip starts out good, trying to get drinks, singing in the streets, and all of that, but Finn is mopey over Rachel. Puck sighs, pushing the anger down, and come out with what a good best friend should say – encouragement to ask her out. At the same time, Puck can’t help but hope Rachel’s telling the truth: maybe she really is into Jesse, or maybe she really doesn’t want any distractions. 

Maybe a final, resounding ‘no’ will make Finn move on, and if not, maybe he’ll at least be single over the summer. Puck would like one last summer, the summer before their senior year. It could be _their_ summer, best friends to the end. That’s why he volunteers to help. Either Finn is happy, or Finn is single, one or the other. 

Still, Puck has to close his eyes when Finn goes in for a kiss on the sidewalk while the rest of them sing 'Bella Notte'. He keeps his eyes closed while they sing, for so long that when Puck finally opens them, he’s confused about what’s happened. He catches on after ten or fifteen seconds, and once Sam and Artie declare that they’re going to cheer Finn up for the rest of the evening, and Mike announces he’s in, Puck nods and agrees.

Puck isn’t above a little bit of trying to make Finn more miserable, though, not if it increases the chances that he’ll finally get over Rachel, so he pushes Finn to recount how the date went, down to Finn’s admission that he doesn’t know how to dream big, and Rachel’s insistence that nothing is going to keep her from her Broadway dream. 

When Sam and Mike decide they’re going to sneak out and look for a twenty-four hour diner, and Artie declares he’s going with them, Puck knows he’s found his chance. He suggests he and Finn stay in the hotel room, ordering room service, and Finn agrees. The room service menu is almost confusing, with as many things as it lists, and Puck’s sort of amused by the idea of ordering an in-room massage. Still, Puck waits until they’ve placed their food orders before he says anything serious to Finn. 

“Maybe Rachel’s right.” 

“Right about what?” Finn asks. “She said a couple different things.”

“About following your dreams,” Puck says. “She’s focusing on her dreams and not letting herself get side-tracked. Maybe that’s what you need to do.” 

“But getting back together with Rachel _was_ my dream,” Finn says. 

“Dude.” Puck looks incredulously at Finn. “Seriously? That was your lifelong dream? To be with Rachel?” 

“I love her,” Finn says, looking more and more miserable. “Wouldn’t _you_ want to be with the person you love forever?”

Puck swallows and looks away as he nods. “Yeah, but I’m not counting on that as a _job_ ,” Puck says finally. “Or at all, for that matter. Just ’cause you love someone doesn’t mean they’re in love with you. C’mon, start small. Where do you want to live in five years?”

“I don’t know. I figured I’d either be in Lima or here in New York with Rachel,” Finn says. 

“Do you even _like_ either place?” Puck says. 

“They’re both fine, I guess.”

“You need to live someone you _love_ ,” Puck says, standing up and pacing back and forth in the room. “Or at least really like. You want to wake up and look outside and be like… yeah, this place here.” Puck falters a little as he realizes he said _someone_ and not _somewhere_ , but maybe Finn won’t notice. 

“But I haven’t ever felt that way about _any_ place,” Finn says, leaning his head back against the booth seat. “No place feels like that.”

“Then I guess you haven’t been there yet,” Puck says, feeling relieved. “So it must not be Lima _or_ New York. What do you want to _do_ every day? Being in love with someone isn’t something you wake up and go do.” 

Finn shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want to do. I’m not good at anything.”

Puck rolls his eyes. “There you go. That’s what you need to not get side-tracked from. Figuring out what you _do_ want to do and where you _do_ want to live.” Puck spits into his hand and holds it out. “We can figure it out over the summer.” 

Finn looks at Puck’s hand a little dubiously, but finally he spits in his own hand and slaps it into Puck’s. “Maybe we could go on a road trip or something,” Finn says, as he shakes Puck’s hand. 

“Hey, yeah,” Puck says. “We’ll listen to music and visit places and you can pretend you live there and see if you like it.” As he thinks about it, it sounds more and more like the best plan—the two of them alone, criss-crossing the country. “I should probably clean pools for a week or two, get some money. Take your truck?” 

“That could be cool,” Finn says. “I bet Burt would let me work at the tire shop for a couple of weeks, too.”

“We can bring our sleeping bags and sleep in the back of the truck unless it’s raining,” Puck says. “That’ll save us some money. Oh, and I bet your mom would buy us maps and one of those college books, if you tell her it’s about finding your future or something.”

“Yeah, I bet she would!” Finn says. Finn suddenly doesn’t look miserable anymore. If Puck hadn’t been around all day, he wouldn’t even guess Finn was hung up on anyone named Rachel Berry, because he looks like he’s forgotten her entirely. 

“We should write a song about _this_ ,” Puck says, grinning. “A road trip song.” 

“But don’t tell my mom, because she’ll say that she’s not supporting a road trip just to write music,” Finn says. “But we totally will.”

“Hey, music could be your future,” Puck says. “You never know.” 

“I don’t think my mom’ll let me be a rock star, dude,” Finn says. 

“See, here’s the awesome thing. Once you’re living on your own and paying your own way… you can do whatever you want.” Puck pauses. “Okay, whatever you want that’s _legal_.” 

“What if I wanted to be, like, a pirate or something?” Finn asks.

“Nope,” Puck says, grinning widely. “Unless you mean you want to play Captain Hook at Disney World.” 

“Nah, I don’t want to be Captain Hook, so I guess I won’t be a pirate,” Finn says. “So, where should we start?”

Puck frowns. “We should hit every state,” he says slowly. “So we should go east or south first.” 

“Uhhh.” Finn scrunches up his face as he thinks. “Wait, I know!” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a quarter. “Heads for east, tails for south.”

Puck nods. “Good plan,” he says, gesturing for Finn to go ahead and flip it. Finn flips the quarter high up into the air and catches it, slapping it down onto the back of his other hand.

“Here we go,” Finn says, holding out both hands. He pauses for a moment, then moves the top hand to reveal the heads-up quarter. “East it is!”

“Awesome,” Puck says. “We’ll go to Pennsylvania first. This’ll be great.” And it will be, Puck is sure. Even in a best case scenario, Puck hadn’t imagined it being just the two of them all summer. The size of Finn’s truck means no one else can come with them. Puck couldn’t have come up with a better plan even if he’d tried for weeks, he’s pretty sure. “We’ve got, what, two weeks of school left? We can leave a month from today.”


	3. Pennsylvania

Exactly a month later, Puck notes the sign for the first town they pass in Pennsylvania: Washington, which has a big mall sitting next to the interstate as they approach. Along with the money they saved up, Finn has $300 from his mom, Puck has $100 from his mom, and they have a gas card, a cooler full of food, and their sleeping bags. Sitting in the floorboard so far unlooked at is a huge guide to colleges, just like Puck had guessed, next to an atlas that Puck figures they don’t need as long as they have their phones and the signs on the interstates. 

“Mom said to let her know I was alive once a week,” Puck says. “You think if I text her now it counts for the next seven days, or is she counting from yesterday?” 

“Text her tomorrow and it’ll last for a week,” Finn says. “You want to hit a drive-through yet?”

“Yeah, they’re serving lunch by now, right?” Puck says. 

Finn squints down at his phone, because his dashboard clock has long since stopped working. “Ten-thirty-two,” he announces. “Breakfast stops at ten-thirty.”

“So we should be able to get Big Macs now,” Puck reasons. “What’d Carole tell you about calling or texting?” 

“I’m supposed to check in every day and tell her where I am and if we need more money,” Finn says. 

“Tell her we need more money tomorrow,” Puck says with a grin. “We’ll splurge and go to Outback for dinner the next night.” 

“I think I need to wait at least a few days, maybe a week,” Finn says. “Or she’ll probably cut me off.”

“You know I’m right about the Outback, though,” Puck says. “Is she going to quiz you on colleges or whatever?” 

“No clue.” Finn puts on his blinker and steers the truck down the off ramp. 

“We’ll stop in Pittsburgh, see if you like it,” Puck says. “I think if you move to Pittsburgh, though, you have to become a Steelers fan.” 

“Is somebody gonna come and take away my Browns jersey?” Finn says, laughing as he turns into the McDonald’s parking lot. 

“Yeah, they make you take a Roethlisberger one instead.” 

“Dude, I can’t even spell Roethlisberger!”

“You think I can?” Puck shakes his head as they get in the drive-through line. “Get me a coffee instead of pop.” 

“Gotcha,” Finn says with a nod, placing their order quickly and then driving right up to the first window. “Guess nobody else wanted lunch before eleven, huh?” he says to Puck after he pays the cashier and starts to roll towards the next window. 

“Yeah, but they weren’t up early so they could leave before seven,” Puck says. “Hey, do you like driving? You could become a trucker.” 

“I like it fine, but I don’t think I’d want to do it all day, every day,” Finn says. He takes their bag of food, then their drinks, handing Puck his coffee. 

“Yeah, me either,” Puck agrees, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing. “So that takes out postal worker and UPS driver, too.” He’s relieved about the no trucker thing; on the slim chance that Finn ever returns Puck’s feelings, Puck wouldn’t enjoy waking up with Finn gone half the time. 

“So, what college are we looking at in Pennsylvania?” Finn asks. He turns back onto the main road, then onto the entrance ramp back up to 70. 

Puck reaches down for the huge book, thumbing through it. “Well, there’s a few. Carnegie Mellon? Seton Hill?”

“Well, I like melons, so let’s go to Carnegie Mellon,” Finn says happily. “Just let me know when to change roads.”

“Yeah, we’ll take I–79 on the other side of Washington,” Puck says, and they spend the rest of the way to Pittsburgh making fun of the Steelers and the Pirates. Puck’s pretty sure Pittsburgh isn’t the right place, but they have to get to every state. 

When they get into the city, Puck tells Finn when to turn, until they arrive at Carnegie Mellon itself. Finn drives slowly past the south end of campus, frowning.

“I think it looks too rectangular,” Finn says. “Like a bunch of hotels.”

“Yeah, I thought colleges were supposed to have columns and books,” Puck says, writing down ‘too rectangular’ and ‘hotel-like’ next to Carnegie Mellon in the book. “You think we need to look anywhere else in Pennsylvania?” 

“We said we’d look at colleges. We didn’t say we’d look at _all_ the colleges.”

Puck laughs and closes the book, putting it back in the floor. “Hey, we crossed off three careers, one college, and an entire state. That’s not bad for the first day, right?” 

“We’re off to an awesome start,” Finn answers. 

Puck nods. “Three down, forty-seven to go.”


	4. Vermont

Since they’d been in New York City, Puck thinks that’s enough to count for the entire state, and they go up through the rest of New York, sleeping in the national forest overnight before heading into Vermont. Puck spends the first hour paging through the atlas and the college book, looking at the names of places in Vermont. 

“Culinary school?” he asks Finn. “You want to be a chef?” 

“Remember the George Foreman Grill,” Finn says.

“Yeah, okay, let’s skip the New England Culinary Institute, then,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Middlebury? University of Vermont?” 

“The first one sounds like a place that hobbits are from,” Finn points out. “Hey, doesn’t Vermont make cheese? And maple syrup?”

“Yeah, I think so. I don’t want to go to a hobbit-college. Guess we’re going towards Burlington, then,” Puck says. 

“Sounds good to me,” Finn says. 

Puck drops the huge college book back down again, stifling a yawn. “You ruled out all the non-college jobs, right? You don’t want to be a plumber or anything, do you?” 

“Uh, no.”

“Salesman? HVAC?”

“I don’t know what that last one is,” Finn says, “but I don’t think I want to do it.”

“Like, air conditioning, I think,” Puck says. “But you probably wouldn’t fit everywhere for that, so that’s probably better.” He grins at Finn, glancing at him for a few seconds before looking out the window again. Being in the truck most of the day, he realizes he probably _looks_ at Finn more than he would otherwise, but because they’re in the truck, Finn’s less likely to notice, or at least he hasn’t so far. “We have to cross up here and then go south on I–89.” 

“Cool. Just make sure I’m headed in the right direction,” Finn says. 

“Did you know people can minor in coaching?” Puck asks. “Or major in forestry. Do you count trees for that major?” 

“I think you have to dress up like Smokey the Bear,” Finn says. “I don’t think I’d fit in the suit.”

“Nutrition. Do you think that’s a lot of eating or a lot of not eating?” Puck says, frowning at the book and its list of majors.

“Probably not eating. Or, like, diet eating. Fake sugar, fat-free light eating.”

“Ew.” Puck makes a face. “Don’t take nutrition, then. Hey, there’s a KFC at the next exit.” 

“That’s the only nutrition I care about,” Finn says. 

Puck decides, as they leave the interstate and head towards the advertised KFC, that he hopes Finn doesn’t really like Vermont. So far, Finn hasn’t called Puck on much of anything: what Puck wants to do, where Puck wants to live, the vague way Puck acts like of course wherever Finn ends up, it’ll be both of them. They eat at the KFC, get gas at the Mobil across the street, and then miss the turn back to the interstate, which means they have to turn around. 

At first Puck thinks it’s an empty field, but then he sees the sign. “Dude, it’s a drive-in,” he says. “We should drive back up here after we check out the University of Vermont. It’s not like we’re on someone else’s schedule, right?” 

“Right. Yeah, that’ll be cool,” Finn says. “I love a drive-in.”

“Even better, it’s _X-Men_ ,” Puck says, pointing for Finn to make the turn back to the interstate this time. “I always thought Vermont was rich, but it looks kind of poor here. You want to live somewhere with a lot of rich people, more poor people, or in between?” The weird thing about asking Finn all these questions is that Puck knows the answers. He just wants _Finn_ to think about the answers.

“I don’t think it really matters,” Finn says, merging back onto the interstate. 

“Do _you_ want to be rich?” Puck asks, sliding his feet out of his flip-flops and propping them on the dashboard. He’s pretty sure he knows the answer to that question, too. 

“I wouldn’t say no to it or anything, but money’s not that important, as long as it’s enough to buy food and a place to live and stuff,” Finn says. “If I’m not rich, I don’t have to worry about people pretending to like me for my money.”

“Yeah, good point. Does that mean we can rule out politics?” 

“I think we’re too smart for politics,” Finn says, then starts to laugh. 

“Too smart to listen to people lie all the time?” Puck says through his own laughter. “Yeah, probably so.” He directs Finn towards the University of Vermont, once they get to Burlington. “That’s really brick,” he says. 

“Yeah, it’s a lot of brick, alright,” Finn says. “It kind of looks like that movie. The singing one.”

“ _Grease_?” Puck says with a frown. “Or _Footloose_?”

“No, with the kid in it,” Finn says. 

“I don’t remember one with a kid,” Puck admits. “Was it on Dinner and a Movie?”

“No, I think we watched it at school one day when we had a substitute. You were out sick, I think,” Finn says. “Anyway, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, yeah, the one that ripped off _Oliver and Company_ ,” Puck says. “I remember you told me about it. I think I _got_ that teacher sick, though.” Puck shrugs and picks up the huge book again. “What should I put about the good ol’ U of Vermont?” 

“Freaky buildings,” Finn says. 

“Yeah,” Puck says, nodding as he writes that down. “Okay, back north for the drive-in!”


	5. New Hampshire

Puck and Finn spend an extra day in Vermont, going to cheese and syrup tours, and then they head into New Hampshire on I–89, with a destination of Manchester. Puck is on his last clean T-shirt, and he knows they have to find a coin laundry sooner or later. They keep the trash thrown away, though, and so far they haven’t had a rainy night drive them into the truck for even more hours. 

“We’re going to two places today,” Puck announces, looking up from the book. “The New Hampshire Institute of Art, and Southern New Hampshire University.” 

“Cool,” Finn says. “What kind of art do they do at the Institute of Art?”

“Uh, ceramics, photography, graphic design, illustration, and something called ‘fine arts’ which sounds dumb. Their entire thing is about art.” 

“Huh.” Finn shrugs. “Cool, I guess. I could maybe do art stuff.”

“Maybe not ceramics,” Puck says cautiously. “I didn’t know people went to college for photography, though. How hard can that be?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know, either. Must be harder than we thought.”

“At the other school you can major in ‘justice studies’, whatever those are,” Puck says, looking up briefly. “Hey, there you go. Have you thought about being a cop? Paramedic? Firefighter?” 

“Maybe,” Finn says. “I don’t want to shoot anybody.”

“Huh.” Puck frowns, thinking. He doesn’t really want Finn shooting anybody, either, or for anyone to shoot at Finn. Plus, firefighters sometimes die in fires, and it seems like paramedics would be in wrecks. “Yeah, those are probably bad jobs for you,” he decides. He closes the college guide book and puts it down. “What baseball team do they even root for here?” he asks, and talking about how empty Vermont and New Hampshire are takes up a good amount of the time to Manchester. 

Once they get on I–93, Puck frowns at the map. “Southern New Hampshire University is farther north than the Institute,” he says. “So I guess we’ll go there first.” 

“I’m not sure I like New Hampshire,” Finn says. “Not much here.”

“I don’t even know what New Hampshire’s nickname is,” Puck admits. “SNHU sounds like a weird sneeze, too.”

“Yeah, gesundheit,” Finn says. 

“See?” Puck says, shaking his head. “Next exit, though. Maybe the art place means, like, National Geographic photography.” He shrugs, because he can’t really see Finn doing photojournalism or anything, either. Finn must think the same thing, because all their trip through Manchester yields is ‘weird acronym’ and ‘too sterile-looking’, and Puck’s relieved, because he didn’t really like New Hampshire either. 

He looks through the section on Maine, frowning a little, and ends up looking up just in time to spot a billboard for Dairy Queen, which he points to silently. If the trip has taught Puck anything, it’s how not to fill every moment with talking. He’s always done that, almost defensively, but they understand each other without all of it. 

Finn nods, and when they get to the next exit, he exits off the highway, heading towards the Dairy Queen. “You want to get food or just ice cream?” Puck asks.

“Just ice cream, I think,” Finn says. He parks the truck in front of the Dairy Queen. “Maybe a big ice cream.”

“Let’s go to L.L. Bean while we’re in Maine,” Puck says. “We can go to this Maritime Academy place first. It’ll be different.” 

“What do they do at a Maritime Academy?” Finn asks. 

“No clue,” Puck admits. “Something about small vessels. Maybe you learn to drive boats.” 

“Do you drive boats?” Finn asks. “What’s the word for driving boats? Like how you pilot a plane and conduct a train.”

“Hey, there’s an idea.” Puck steps up to order his ice cream, then leans against the counter to wait. “You want to be a pilot, maybe? And maybe it’s steer. Steer a boat.” 

“I don’t know, dude. Some of those planes are hella small.” 

“No, like cargo planes or something.” Puck smiles at the Dairy Queen worker instead of saying thanks, because he’s already got a spoonful halfway to his mouth. “You’d get to travel a lot,” he adds once they’re back outside with their ice cream. 

“I bet it gets lonely, though,” Finn says, stirring his blizzard with an odd, sort of thoughtful, look on his face. 

“Oh, maybe.” Puck shrugs. “You’d rather do something with people around. Okay, we can eliminate like… archaeological digs or Antarctic expeditions.” 

“Yeah, pretty sure I’d suck at either of those,” Finn says.

“We can still go look at the boat school, though,” Puck says. “There’s a state park not too far from here. Want to crash there for the night?” 

“Yeah, that sounds great.” Finn says. “You think the mosquitoes are bad here?”

“Probably. Maybe we should ask for money to buy a tent. Or at least some mosquito netting.” 

“Like in that movie,” Finn agrees. 

“As long as we’re not in a Monty Python sketch,” Puck says with a grin. “Turn left at the light and then right at the butchery, by the way. Seriously, that’s what the map says. Butchery.” 

“Cool,” Finn says, then after a couple of beats, adds, “but I don’t want to be a butcher, either.”

“Hadn’t even thought of that one,” Puck admits. He gets a mental image of Finn cutting up cows or something and laughs. “Yeah, let’s skip butchering for sure. Probably not whatever the fish-equivalent of a butcher is called, either.” 

“Yeah, think about how gross we’d smell at the end of the day!”

Puck grins to himself at the ‘we’, but doesn’t say anything about it, just directs Finn the rest of the way to the state park, where they pay to park and then drive around for a few minutes. 

“We can use the beach,” Puck says. “But coin-operated showers? Really? What if it runs out while you’re soapy? Can’t you just see people chasing down quarters?”

“Guess you’d have to rinse off at the sink,” Finn says.

“Wonder how much it costs just for five minutes,” Puck says as they park. 

“I don’t know. You think it’s five minutes at a time?” Finn asks. “I don’t have that many quarters.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of change, mostly pennies and nickels, with only a few quarters. 

“Probably?” Puck guesses. “Unless they’re trying to make a profit, and it’s only three minutes at a go.” 

“Shit, I bet this isn’t enough,” Finn says, frowning at the coins. “I guess you can take a shower this time, and I’ll shower at the next place?”

“We can tag out while we’re soaping,” Puck says. “It’s got to be more private than the locker room showers, just to begin with.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. Not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” Finn says, laughing.

“Exactly.” Puck laughs along with Finn, because that part of pretending comes almost automatically. “And anyway, we don’t want to get _too_ rank. You think they have free samples anywhere in Maine?” 

“We should stop at one of those rest stop visitor center things and see if they have information about free samples,” Finn says.

“Good idea.” Puck climbs out and grabs his bag, tossing Finn’s to him. “Let’s get the coin-operated shower going, I guess,” he says as he starts walking towards the building. The stalls for the showers aren’t huge, but he and Finn will fit into a single one without too much trouble, and Puck sets his stuff down outside the stall on the end before starting to strip. 

Finn leans into the shower stall first, then calls out, “It’s like five minutes for fifty cents, dude. We’ll have to wash fast.”

“Get naked before we start it, I guess,” Puck says with a shrug. 

“Just don’t leave me hanging with soap all over me!” Finn says. He steps back out of the shower and strips, fishing his two quarters out of his jeans pocket. “Ready?”

“Yep,” Puck says, though as he steps into the actual stall, he starts to doubt the wisdom behind the entire plan. Showering in the same stall is not exactly the same as communal showers, because Finn is so much bigger than Puck and so much closer than they’d ever been after a game or practice, even when they were at showerheads next to each other. Puck tries to keep his eyes averted—he’s had plenty of practice at it over the years—but it’s a lot harder than he anticipated, and he starts to hope he’s not as red as he feels like he is. Maybe Finn’ll think it’s the heat from the shower. 

Finn puts the quarters in, and the water starts, cold at first, but warming up quickly. “You want to go first?” Finn offer. 

“Less hair,” Puck jokes, ducking under the spray and getting thoroughly wet before moving to the side and picking up a bar of soap. “What was it your mom always said? Make sure we got behind our ears?” 

“Yeah, you need help?” Finn says, laughing. “She always said you missed.”

“I tried to tell her, that skin was just freckly,” Puck says, shaking his head as he finishes soaping up. It’s even harder to ignore Finn, standing right there in front of him, and Puck finds himself having to think about Coach Sylvester so he doesn’t pop a boner right there, like they’re back on JV during freshman year. 

“Yeah, that’s you, so freckly,” Finn says. He nudges Puck out of the way as he steps under the water, sticking his head under so it runs down his face, and then swiping the bar of soap from Puck’s hand.

“I never figured out how dirt got there anyway.” Puck shrugs. “There was that time you dumped sand on my head.” 

“That was your own fault. You moved your head.”

“And why were you dumping sand from so high?” Puck says mock-seriously. “There’s no good excuse for that, Finn Hudson.” 

“Not my fault I was that much taller than you,” Finn says. He lathers up the soap and then runs his soapy hand over himself. “Better rinse before we run out of minutes.”

“Yeah, that’d suck,” Puck agrees, his eyes following Finn’s hand even though he tries not to watch. “Let’s stop in Maine and at least get some Off. Not here, I bet they mark it up at the campground.” 

“Good plan. We don’t want to get that mosquito disease.” Finn sticks his elbow out and uses it to shove Puck back under the water.

“Hey!” Puck protests ineffectually. “Which one? Malaria?” He closes his eyes as he rinses off, shaking his head under the water and trying _not_ to think about the things that he would do with Finn at that moment, if he could. He hopes again that he’s not turning so red that it’s not explained by the shower heat, too. 

“Sure. Whichever one they got in the movie with the mosquito nets,” Finn says. “Crap, we’re running out of minutes.” He steps back under the water, his side pressed against Puck’s as he quickly rinses. 

“You always have taken longer than me,” Puck manages to say, still not opening his eyes as he finishes under the spray. “Maybe you should try a mohawk.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think I can rock that look like you can,” Finn says. “You done?”

“Yeah. Do we have anything bigger than a handtowel?” 

“I think maybe I’ve got a towel somewhere,” Finn says. “Not in here.”

“Guess it’s time to shake off,” Puck says with a grin as he finally opens his eyes. “Or grab some paper towels.” 

“You think anybody’s around outside?” Finn asks.

“We’re not _that_ far from the beach. You want to lie in the truck in our boxers or something?” Puck asks, shaking his head. 

“Figured we could just air dry if we needed to,” Finn says. “You’re the one who always says you like to work on your tan.”

“Yeah,” Puck says, ready to yell at himself for such a spectacularly bad idea. Finn next to him in the shower had been difficult enough, but there’d been a timer. Finn naked next to him in the sun for an indefinite amount of time meant that at the very least Puck was going to end up hard for seemingly no reason. “As long as the park rangers don’t arrest us?” 

“If we get arrested in this state, do you still think they’d let us go to college here?”

“I don’t think _I_ would get into any college if I get arrested,” Puck says. 

“If we see some park rangers, we’ll just jump into the truck, then,” Finn says. 

“This is probably a spectacularly bad plan,” Puck mutters to himself, and he does grab a pair of workout shorts, pulling them on over his still-dripping skin before starting to head towards the door. “Vending machine dinner?”

Finn shrugs, pulling on his boxers. “Sure. Don’t want to run out of money.”

“Plus, I saw that they have Combos,” Puck says. 

“Well, that’s a quality dinner, right there,” Finn says.

“Just because you don’t appreciate Combos is no reason to put them down,” Puck says, shaking his head. “They _are_ a quality dinner. Better than bugles.” 

“You take that back. Bugles are awesome.”

“Nope. Not _as_ awesome,” Puck says, climbing in the back of the truck and lying back, his head on his bag. 

“Just shows what bad taste you’ve got,” Finn says. He lies down in the truck bed next to Puck, his head propped on his own bag. 

"Like you're one to talk about taste!" Puck says. "Food, girls, favorite teacher, pizza toppings…"

“Hey! I have great taste!”

"Name one thing in one category off that list," Puck says with a snort.

“For starters, I have great taste in girls,” Finn says.

“Uh, no, you really don’t,” Puck says, shaking his head a little. Even if Finn’s totally straight and destined for happily married life with a woman, there’s no one Finn’s dated that Puck would consider a good match – and Puck figures that if nothing else, he’s earned the right to approve or disapprove of Finn’s girlfriends. 

“Yeah, I _do_ ,” Finn insists. “They’re pretty and smart and talented.”

“So is, like. Miss Pillsbury,” Puck says. “And a lot of people. That doesn’t mean that they’re good for you.” 

“They both wanted me to do something better with my life, too. That’s good for me!”

“No, they wanted you to do what _they_ thought you should do with your life,” Puck argues. “They wanted to tell you what to do. They didn’t want you to do something that you chose on your own.” 

“But I didn’t know what I wanted, and they helped,” Finn says. 

“Oh, yeah, if by ‘help’ you mean ‘steered you to think what they wanted you to think’,” Puck says, snorting again. “Just face it. You’ve got to hope your track record improves after high school. Or at least as a senior and then after high school.” 

“Dude, you suck. Rachel was a great girlfriend!”

Puck starts laughing, because he can’t help himself. “Yeah, so great that when she wanted to hurt you, she didn’t just approach a random person,” Puck mutters under his breath before raising his volume again. “She has you convinced, doesn’t she?” 

“Convinced of what?” Finn says.

“That she’s a great girlfriend,” Puck says, calming down. “She’s got you thinking exactly what she wants you to think, that she’s an awesome girlfriend, that you’d be ‘lucky’ to have her, that you love her. She’s got you on a string and she likes it.” 

“Look, don’t talk about her like that,” Finn says. “She’s not doing that.”

“Yeah, she _is_ , and she’s _not_ your girlfriend, so don’t give me the ‘don’t talk shit about girlfriends’ speech.” 

“Why are you acting like such a jerk?” Finn asks.

“A jerk would have told you all of this back in the fall. I’m just telling you a few things that you don’t see,” Puck says. 

“Well who asked you?” Finn says, crossing his arms over his bare chest and looking straight up at the sky. 

“I can’t look out for my best friend?” Puck asks. “Who thinks he’s in love with someone who’s all wrong for him?” 

“Like you’d even know,” Finn says. “Have you ever even been in love?”

“Uh… yeah,” Puck says, sighing a little. “Have been. And if we’re being totally honest, still am and will be.” 

“With who? Not Zizes.” Finn shakes his head. “She treated you way worse than Rachel ever treated me.”

Puck laughs. “No, not Lauren. I don’t think she wanted anything long term any more than I did. Sometimes you don’t get to be with the person you love, you know? At least not the way you want to be, at least not yet.” And sometimes, Puck mentally adds, when he fucks up badly enough, he doesn’t get to be around Finn at all, but at least that’s finally over.

Finn doesn’t respond at first, and Puck’s starting to think he isn’t going to, when he asks, “So, you really were in love with Quinn?”

“Quinn?” Puck repeats almost blankly. “No. Not Quinn. I love _Beth_ , but I was assuming we were talking about romantic love here.” Puck shakes his head. “It’s a… pretty long-term thing, I guess you could say.” 

“I can’t even think of a girl we’ve known that long,” Finn admits.

Puck shrugs and hums a little. It’s probably for the best that Finn assumes it’s a girl, especially when they haven’t even made it out of the northeast yet. “Not like I go around advertising it, obviously.” 

“Alright,” Finn says, like that’s enough for him to let the subject drop.

That’s also probably for the best, Puck is pretty sure, and he doesn’t say anything else for at least ten minutes, staring up at the sky and scaring himself with scenarios of what happens if he blurts it out. It’s not that he’s afraid of Finn, but he is afraid of things _changing_ , and not in a good way. Of all the things Puck’s ever hoped for, he’s pretty sure the idea of Finn being secretly in love with Puck, too, is the most ludicrous and the least likely. 

“You want those Bugles?” Puck finally asks. 

“I definitely don’t want the Combos,” Finn says.

Puck snorts. “Good. I wouldn’t share them with you, anyway.”


	6. Maine

“I don’t think we’re smart enough for the boat college, after all,” Puck says as they drive south towards the L.L. Bean headquarters, where he’s secretly hoping they give out samples of boots or something. 

“I didn’t really want to be a boat driver, anyway,” Finn says. 

“At least you’re narrowing it down. Hey, do you want to work at L.L. Bean? I bet you get a discount.” 

“Not really. Retail kind of sucks.”

“So… no car sales, either?” Puck guesses. 

“I would suck so hard at that job,” Finn says. “Seriously, I can’t ask somebody to pay me that much money for anything.”

“Yeah, there’s not that many things you feel that strongly about,” Puck agrees. “Oh, what about tour guide somewhere? Like one of those ghost tours or something.” 

“That would freak me out,” Finn says.

“So I guess haunted house worker is out, too. I’ll let all the amusement parks know,” Puck says. “You seriously never have heard about some job and thought ‘that sounds awesome’?”

Finn shrugs. “Rock star?”

“Well, yeah.” Puck grins. “But I don’t think any of those band names we came up with in sixth grade are going to chart. The fame or the music? Or both?” 

“The music, mostly, but not having to worry about money is cool, too,” Finn says. “And I could drive one of those really awesome sports cars with the lights under them.”

“No speeding,” Puck says, shaking his finger and grinning. “Better work on your drumming, then, I guess.” He sighs. “It would be nice not to have to worry about money. Hell, I don’t even want a million dollars. I wouldn’t turn it _down_ , but I don’t really want to do something where there’s not quite enough, you know?” 

“Yeah. Plus, I’ll probably have a family, and I have to take care of them, right?”

“Do you _want_ a family?” Puck can’t help asking. “Because that sounds like ‘should’ not ‘want’.” 

Finn shrugs. “That’s what people usually want when they’re adults. I don’t want one _now_ , but I’m still in high school, so that makes sense.”

“Sure, yeah, but you might realize you definitely _do_ or _don’t_ ,” Puck says. “I mean, c’mon. Rock star’s not really compatible with family life. You want to support kids? You’re talking tie every day and a commute to your house in the suburbs. Neither one’s bad, but… I’m just trying to get you to think ahead, right?” 

“Yeah, but it’s not like I could _really_ be a rock star,” Finn says. “I’m not good enough for that, and besides, I can’t even really write songs.”

“Dude, the two of us were better than some bands by the time we hit eighth grade. Think about it: if Justin Bieber can top a chart, there’s no reason you couldn’t. Anyway, okay, people don’t go to rock star colleges, but you could go to college for music.” Puck shrugs. “We’ll look at the other stuff, though, if you want.” 

“Maybe,” Finn says.

“Right now, though, I want to find out if L.L. Bean gives out free samples. Too bad we couldn’t get your mom to send us an L.L. Bean gift card or something, we could get a tent and one of those camping stoves.” 

“Yeah, that would rock,” Finn says. “And better bug spray, too.”

“I think you’re just tasty, dude.” 

“Oh, bite me,” Finn retorts. 

“I think the bugs have that covered for now,” Puck says, grinning and hoping that the fact Finn’s driving will give Puck a few minutes to chill out, since his first reaction was pretty close to being ‘okay, sure, how about now’. “You want to splurge on some lobster tonight?” 

“It’s supposed to be pretty cheap here, right?” Finn asks. “’Cause I might have two or three. I’m tired of vending machine dinner already.”

“Yeah, we should do seafood until we’re out of Connecticut or something,” Puck says. “When we get to the southwest, we’ll only do tacos and shit.” 

“That sounds awesome.”

“And, like… fried stuff in the south,” Puck adds. “Okay, ready to go wish we could buy a tent?” 

“Yeah. Ready to go stare at a tent longingly,” Finn says.


	7. Massachusetts

Maine has four fewer lobsters when Finn and Puck leave the next morning, heading south towards Boston. Puck is amazed by how many colleges are listed under ‘Massachusetts’, and a large number of them are in and around Boston, so Puck figures that they have time to narrow it down. 

“Give me something to work with,” Puck says. “A major, a letter you want the college to start with, something.” 

“I think we should try someplace warmer,” Finn says. “I’m sick of all the snow. I’m not saying it has to have a beach or something, but warm would be nice.”

“Yeah, but we have to make your mom think we’re trying. Maybe we should just drive by Harvard?” 

“Sure. That sounds impressive, checking out Harvard,” Finn says, nodding his head.

“Maybe you should consider picking based on mascot, too,” Puck says. “I know we’re supposed to love the school in our state and everything, but— Buckeyes?”

“I’ve always kind of felt like you know what team’s gonna win based on which mascot could beat up the other mascot,” Finn says. 

“Okay, so no schools with wimpy mascots?” Puck shrugs. “That sounds like a good policy. And rules out that place in North Carolina for sure. Deacons.”

“I don’t even know what a deacon is,” Finn says. “It’s like a priest or something?”

“I think Baptists have them.” Puck shrugs again. “Sounds wimpy, anyway. Oh, and that rules out Alabama, the mascot rule.” 

“No Crimson Tide?”

“It sounds like the punchline to a period joke, dude.” 

“Oh yeah.” Finn laughs. “Crimson Tide.”

“Oh yeah is right. But hey, at least we already eliminated those two schools.” Puck looks at the map and frowns. “Let’s take exit 31 for our Harvard drive-by.” 

“You should take my picture in front of the sign so I can text it to my mom,” Finn says.

Puck grins. “Yeah, good idea. Handy that they named the road ‘Harvard Avenue’ I guess. You think we could convince anyone at McKinley that you were accepted at Harvard?”

“No,” Finn says.

“Can I _try_ to convince them?” Puck asks, almost whining. 

“Sure, but nobody’s gonna buy it. It is _me_ we’re talking about.”

“I’ll tell them that you’re majoring in…” Puck trails off as he looks in the book. “Linguistics! They probably don’t know what that is.” 

“It’s a kind of pasta, right?” Finn asks.

“Pasta college. I think that’s linguine, though. Pull over there and we’ll take pictures.” Once Finn pulls over, Puck climbs out, brandishing his phone. “C’mon, stand there and smile real big.” 

Finn gives Puck his widest grin, holding his hands out towards the sign like he’s showing it off. Puck holds up his phone, taking several pictures and hoping that’s enough to cover up the expression on his own face, because the question in Puck’s mind isn’t ‘why am I in love with Finn?’ but closer to ‘why isn’t everyone?’, and the trip is just solidifying that. Maybe Puck can get his mom to wire him some money before they find another tent store, so Finn can pick out a tent or something. 

“Yeah, I think I got it,” Puck finally says, giving Finn a grin and a thumbs up. “I think we’re probably not rich enough for Harvard, though.”

“Or smart enough,” Finn says. “I’m not, anyway.”

“I mean, just to be here.” Puck looks around them as he leans against the truck. “Want me to send these to your mom?”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

Puck laughs a little and climbs back into the truck after he sends them. “You think she’ll think we Photoshopped them?”

“From your phone?” Finn says. “If we could do that, maybe we _could_ get into Harvard.”

“Like your mom realizes that,” Puck says as they drive back to the interstate. “Does she even know we’re in Massachusetts?”

“Oh crap, I haven’t checked in since, uh. When did I check in?” Finn says.

Puck shrugs. “Was it syrup day or coin-shower day?”

“Syrup. Maybe.”

“I guess she’ll be—” Puck stops as Finn’s phone rings loudly. “Surprised. And maybe call you?”

“Oh shit. Answer it for me!” Finn shoves his phone in Puck’s direction. “Please? I’ll owe you one. A huge one!”

“Maybe _two_ ,” Puck says, sighing before answering the phone. “Hey, Carole!” he says, then puts it on speaker. “How’s Ohio?”

“Nice try, Noah,” Carole says. “Put Finn on.”

“Uh, hi Mom?” Finn says, scowling at Puck. 

“What part of ‘check in with me every day’ sounded like ‘neglect to call your worried mother for almost three days’?” Carole asks.

“Well, uh.” Finn’s scowl deepens, and he whispers “Help!” to Puck.

“We were so involved in our discussions about the future,” Puck says blandly. “We’ve ruled out jobs in shipping and sales.” 

“And Harvard. It’s super-expensive, Mom,” Finn says.

“Yes, I saw the picture, Finn. Very nice,” Carole says, not sounding like she thinks it’s very nice at all. “Do you have a timeline for the rest of your trip, boys?”

“Well, next is Rhode Island, but we haven’t decided which college,” Puck says. “And then Connecticut. There’s a lot of colleges there, too.” 

“I thought this was supposed to be a short road trip. I thought you’d see a few colleges and then head home. You’ve been gone for over a week!”

“Yeah, about that,” Finn says, making a face at Puck.

“We’re going to visit every state,” Puck says cheerfully. “We probably need the money to buy a tent, though. Finn really liked the tents at L.L. Bean, and we’ll run into another store in Virginia.” He gives Finn a thumbs up. “Maybe a camp stove, too.” 

“Every state,” Carole repeats, then louder, “Every state?”

“Well, probably not Hawaii,” Finn says.

“Finn Hudson, you are _not_ visiting every continental state in the U.S.,” Carole insists. “You are cutting this trip short and coming home.”

Finn starts making a crackling-buzzing noise. “What, Mom?” he asks, in between buzzes. “The signal’s really bad here. We’re going through a tunnel!” 

“Finn Hudson, don’t you da—” Carole’s voice is abruptly cut off as Finn reaches over and aggressively pokes the phone, ending the call.

“Turn it off,” Finn says. “Quick!”

Puck laughs and turns it off, then reaches for his own phone and turns it off, too, just in case Carole decides to call it instead. “I don’t think she’s going to send enough for the really nice camp stove, dude,” he says when he finally calms down. 

“Shit. She’s soooo pissed!”

“Yeah, but you’ll call her later and tell her that you’re sorry you didn’t tell her the full plan, but that isn’t it great? And she’ll ask you a question, you’ll tell her a story, probably about the syrup tours or the lobster, and after she laughs, she’ll get over it.” Puck grins. “You forget I’ve watched this a few times.” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Finn says. “She’s more pissed than normal, though.”

“Yeah, but you’re going to go back to Lima knowing, like, where you want to go. She can’t argue with that,” Puck says. “And she’ll probably be relieved about the no-Crimson Tide thing.” 

“Probably. I hope I can figure it all out.” Finn sighs and looks guiltily down at his phone, sitting on the seat between him and Puck.

“Well, that’s why you have a navigator,” Puck says with a shrug. “You want to go out on the Cape and eat there, before we hit Rhode Island tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, that sounds cool. We can walk on the beach?”

“Yeah, that’d be awesome,” Puck says. “See the ocean. I wonder how far out you can see?” 

“Miles and miles, I bet,” Finn says.

“Any preference on what town?” 

Finn shrugs. “Wherever.”

“There’s some national seashore, plus a few towns. North Eastham, that’s funny. One at the tip. That one’s Provincetown.” 

“Let’s go to that one,” Finn says. “It sounds good.”

“Cool. We just go down three to US–6 once we’re south of Boston, and we go to the end of US–6,” Puck says. “Maybe we can have fish tonight, since we had lobster last night.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Finn says.

The drive out to Provincetown turns out to be really boring, and Puck decides by the time they’re halfway there that he does not want to drive back that night, which means finding a place to crash that isn’t some rich guy’s second or third or fourth house, behind gates and fences. The beach, maybe. 

When they get to Provincetown, Puck looks around, a little confused. “I think… I think it’s a gay town.” 

“It’s really rainbow, for sure,” Finn says. “I didn’t know there were whole towns that were gay, though.”

“I’m just guessing that there’s not a Provincetown High School or anything,” Puck says, still looking around. “At least two guys traveling together will blend in?” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Finn says. 

“I mean, they’ll think we’re together,” Puck says very carefully, not looking in Finn’s direction. 

“It’s not like we’re staying here forever or anything,” Finn says. “Doesn’t hurt if they think that.”

“Yeah,” Puck says, a little more softly than he intends, as Finn parks the truck. Puck wonders what his face looks like, because he’s trying not to stare, but part of his own problem with deciding if he’s gay or bisexual has always been that ‘gay’ only looks one way in Lima. The people around them aren’t all clones, and Puck can’t help but feel a little wistful watching some of the couples. 

“Dude, if it bothers you, we can, I don’t know. Like, check out the town from two different directions, or something, if you want,” Finn says. 

“Huh?” Puck turns to look at Finn, startling a little. “What?” 

“I said it didn’t matter to me, but then you looked kind of mad or upset or something,” Finn says. “If it matters to you that much, we can make sure people don’t think that.”

“Oh.” Puck shakes his head a few times. “Just thinking.” He probably did look upset, but not for the reasons that Finn thought. “At least no one’ll hit on you if they think we’re together.” Finn may not see that as a bonus in the same way that Puck does, but it does make Puck feel a little better. Taking Finn out of Lima for the summer only to watch guys hit on him isn’t Puck’s idea of a great time. 

“Oh, okay, cool,” Finn says. “So, what are we doing first?”

“Let’s use some money and get a couple of beach towels,” Puck says. “Then we can find some fish before we sit on the beach.”

“Good idea. We can get some pops to bring down there, too.”

“Yeah, and ice cream cones,” Puck says, starting to head towards one of the main roads, which has rainbow flags flying everywhere, including on wires stretching over the road. “Maybe we can find beach towels like the ones we had in elementary school. With the lobsters or crabs or whatever they were.” 

“Remember how mine had the lobsters wearing sunglasses?” Finn asks. “That was funny.”

“Pretty accurate, too, after the long July Fourth weekend,” Puck says with a grin. “You were bright red with sunglasses on.” 

“It’s not my fault I can’t tan like you!” Finn says, elbowing Puck in the arm. 

“Yeah, but it _is_ your fault you didn’t put on sunscreen.” Puck elbows Finn back. “Somehow you tried to make it my fault though.” 

“You didn’t remind me to put any on!”

“Oh, is that _my_ job? You didn’t tell me that. Or pay me,” Puck says. He heads into one of the closest stores that seems to carry beach towels. “Get some sunscreen to go with your beach towel.” 

“See? Obviously your job,” Finn says. He smiles at Puck, a wide grin that shows all his teeth.

“How are you going to pay me?” Puck asks, looking through the beach towels. “Maybe I’ll get one with seahorses.” 

“I’ll pay you with not being sunburned, since you’re the one who has to drive around with me complaining about being sunburned,” Finn says. “Seahorses are cool. Look for one where the seahorses have sunglasses.”

“I’ll just go ahead and buy some of the after-sun now,” Puck says with a sigh. “Here’s seahorses with little seahorse babies.” 

“Aww, that’s cute.”

“Here’s some fish with sunglasses. You want that one? It looks like the fish in that book from kindergarten.” 

“Aww, Rainbow Fish!” Finn says. “Yeah, I want that one.”

“Rainbow fish for you, baby seahorses for me,” Puck says. “And after-sun that’s technically for you, but really for me. Do we need anything else here?” 

“Nope. Let’s go eat some fish!”

After they leave that store, they pass two restaurants that look almost claustrophobically small, and then one suspiciously empty before reaching one that only has seafood on the menu. “No token hamburgers here,” Puck says, looking at the posted menu. “Sound good?” 

“Yeah. No back up options must mean the fish is good,” Finn says.

“Yeah, exactly. We should ask what they catch locally, and have that.” Puck holds up two fingers to the guy standing inside the door, and he leads them to a booth for two near the back. It’s a little cramped, mainly because Puck isn’t exactly _short_ , and Finn’s legs are abnormally long, but at least the booths are high enough that no one’s peering at each other. 

“What should we get? Maybe we should get everything,” Finn says. “Maybe we’ll get a bunch of things and share them.”

“Yeah, let’s start with oysters,” Puck says, looking at the menu. “And we can get some clams and different kinds of fish.” 

“Do they have any good appetizers that aren’t oysters? Are those raw oysters or cooked ones?”

“They have lobster nachos, too. We can get the oysters either way.”

“Lobster nachos sound either super awesome or super gross,” Finn says. “Maybe we’ll get the oysters both ways. Have you ever eaten raw oysters?”

“Nope. I don’t think they serve those anywhere near Lima,” Puck points out as the server comes over, and they start to place their order. 

“Don’t forget that oysters are an aphrodisiac,” the server says to them with a wink. 

“What’s that? Is that the thing where you need a pen?” Finn whispers to Puck.

Puck shakes his head, waiting until the server leaves to answer Finn. “It’s one of those things that ups libido,” he says, not quite managing to grin. 

“Ohhhhhh,” Finn says, his eyes widening. 

“They say that about chocolate too, though,” Puck says, “so I’m not convinced.” 

“We should get some chocolate. Maybe they have chocolate cake. I haven’t bought any at the gas stations ’cause it melts,” Finn says. “We should get ice cream on chocolate cake.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Puck agrees. The oysters are good, but don’t taste the way Puck was expecting, even though he can’t figure out _why_ he expected them to taste any specific way. Then the server brings the four different entrees they picked out, and most of their conversation is limited to comparing food and fighting over the last bite of the cod. 

The weird thing about Provincetown, combined with having sat in an isolated booth for two, is that once they leave the restaurant, Puck almost feels like he’s supposed to reach for Finn’s hand, and after that thought, his arms feel awkward swinging at his sides. They walk the length of the main street and back, and Puck points to one store. 

“Let’s get a kite.” 

“For real?” Finn asks. 

“There’s no trees on the beach for you to get it tangled in,” Puck says. 

“Cool,” Finn says. “We should get one of the ones that looks like it’s on fire.”

“One flaming kite,” Puck says with a laugh, picking up one of the ones Finn means and paying for it before they walk back to the ice cream store. “I think we’re ready to spend the rest of the day on the beach, once we get the ice cream,” Puck says. “You still getting cake under yours?”

“Yeah. Duh.”

“Oysters _and_ chocolate,” Puck tries to joke, because it seems like he should. 

“I don’t think it really does that thing,” Finn says. “I feel normal.”

“Keep me posted,” Puck says, stepping up to the counter and ordering his ice cream.

“Will do,” Finn says.

Ice cream in hand, the two of them walk to the beach, and Puck lets himself pretend for a few moments, surrounded by so many couples that are two guys together. It’s almost believable, that he and Finn are there _together_ , eating ice cream and spreading out their towels on the sand, staring out at the surf. 

“Is that a ship?” Puck asks. 

“Yeah, or a really big fishing boat,” Finn says. “Cool.”

“I think I get the Ironman thing, or the people who swim the Channel,” Puck says. “Wouldn’t that be awesome, swimming way out there? As long as there’s no sharks, I mean.” 

“Yeah. That would be cool,” Finn says. “Except what if you got too tired? You’d have to have one of those rowboats that go along with you.”

“Would you miss me?” Puck jokes, but it does make him feel a little better that Finn’d be concerned, especially when he has to keep reminding himself that it’s pretending, not real, no matter how many other pairs of guys are on the same beach. 

“Dude. Of course,” Finn says. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

“Probably you’d get lost getting back off this little spit of land,” Puck says with a grin. “So is the beach a must-have? Having the beach within driving distance? Or is land-locked still fine?” 

“I like the beach a lot, but it doesn’t have to be near the beach,” Finn says.

“Guess we’re still visiting Nebraska, then,” Puck says, turning back to his ice cream. After they finish their ice cream, Puck feels sleepy, and the two of them lie back on their towels. When Puck wakes up, the sun is a lot lower in the sky, and he feels really warm, but when he does a quick check, his arm doesn’t look red or pink. He looks over at Finn and winces, though, and he carefully pokes Finn on a place where the skin was _not_ exposed.

“Stop,” Finn whines without opening his eyes. “That hurts.”

“Yeah, you’re bright red,” Puck says with another wince. “At least turn over, if you don’t want the after-sun stuff.” 

“But we bought sunscreen,” Finn continues whining, though he does roll over onto his front. 

“Yeah, and it’s still in the bottle. I’m going to go get you some water,” Puck says. “And one of those travel-packs of Advil or something.” 

“Okay. Thanks, Puck.”

Puck shakes his head and walks up the beach towards a small kiosk that advertises water and pop – well, soda, because New Englanders are weird. He asks for two bottles of water and looks around briefly. “Do you have painkillers?”

“We got Tylenol,” the guy in the kiosk says. 

“That good for sunburns?” Puck asks. “Always used Advil before.” 

“It’s good for pain,” the guy says. “Do you want it or not?” He squints at Puck. “You don’t have a sunburn. Is it for you boyfriend?”

“Uh,” Puck says, because if he says yes, he’s lying, but it’s not like he’d object to it being true. If he says no, there’s a complicated explanation that will start in his head if not spilling out of his mouth, which is probably more than the kiosk guy is bargaining for. “Yeah,” Puck finally says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “We fell asleep before he put the sunscreen on. I’ll take the Tylenol.” 

“Yeah, sunburns are no fun,” the guys says, nodding as he rings up the purchases. “That’ll be five-seventy-two.”

Puck hands over a five before counting out the change and picking up the water and Tylenol. “Thanks. Do they try to clear the beach at midnight or anything?” 

“Nah. Swim-at-your-own risk after dark, though.”

“Makes sense.” Puck nods at the kiosk guy and walks back down to Finn. “Sit up, dude. Water, Tylenol, after-sun, and then you can fly your kite.” 

“Everything sucks right now,” Finn says, sitting up.

Puck opens one of the water bottles and hands it to Finn, along with the Tylenol, then picks up the after-sun. “Yeah, but you’ll regret it if you don’t fly the kite here.” 

“I think I burned my back, too.”

“I’ll get all of it,” Puck promises, even though he’s sure that rubbing after-sun lotion on Finn is probably some kind of torture for him. Finn’s eyes close as Puck starts to rub the lotion in, and after a few moments, Finn lets out a very content-sounding moan-like sigh. The sound, combined with the feel of Finn’s skin, makes Puck glad that Finn’s got his eyes closed, and Puck takes as long as he can to finish rubbing in the lotion, to give himself a chance to calm down. When he’s done, he wipes his hands on his shorts and then sits back down on his own towel. 

“Thanks,” Finn says softly. 

“Go fly your kite,” Puck says. “Guy at the kiosk says they don’t close the beach, but you want it to be light enough to see it.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Finn says. He finishes assembling the kite and then walks down near the water, starting to run as he slowly lets the string out. Puck settles back on his elbows, propped up enough to watch Finn running with his kite. It gets some air pretty quickly, and Puck grins at the sight of Finn running up and down the beach, the kite trailing behind him. It’s probably good that they didn’t get a bigger kite, Puck thinks, and that Finn is big, or Puck might even worry about Finn starting to float off, picked up by the wind and the kite. He stays solidly on the beach though, smiling widely, and Puck feels almost goofy, because he can practically feel the expression on his face, somewhat ridiculous and besotted. 

Finn slows down pretty quickly, but he keeps flying his kite for long enough that Puck starts to think a pop or more ice cream could be a good idea. When Finn walks past their towels again, Puck cups his hands over his mouth. 

“Thirsty yet?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, reeling the kite in as he trots back up to the towels. “Tired, too.”

“Sunburn’ll do it.” Puck stands, digging in his pockets to see how much change he has. “Machine or kiosk? Guess we should save the coins for laundry sometime soon?” 

“Yeah. I think most of clothes are starting to smell.”

“Kiosk guy again it is,” Puck says, walking up to the kiosk and getting two pops. He hands one to Finn when he returns to their towels, then flops back down. “Tomorrow or the next day, we’ll convince your mom to wire us more money.” 

“Yeah. Maybe we can pay for a longer shower that way,” Finn says. “Do you think you could put more of that stuff on me?”

Puck nods, looking down to grab the lotion so he’s not looking directly at Finn. “Sure,” he says after a few beats. “No problem. But not again after this, dude. You have to remember the sunscreen eventually.” 

“But I can’t reach the middle of my back,” Finn says.

“And that’s the real reason why you can’t go to college near the beach, isn’t it?” Puck asks, shaking his head. “Lean forward so I get all of your neck.” 

Finn leans forward, sighing as Puck smears the lotion on the back of his neck. Puck shakes his head a little at himself, wondering if this is all some bizarre form of torture. Karma, maybe, for the peanut butter in the locker locks. He always made sure not to do it to the peanut allergic kid, so he thought that would have counted for something, but maybe not, not with Finn sighing while Puck’s rubbing lotion on him. 

“No more sun until at least Jersey,” Puck says. 

“Yes, Mom,” Finn says.

“Hey, if you’re making me get your water and rub on your after-sun, I get to tell you that,” Puck says. “Also I dress better than your mom. And I’m hotter. Not that I— ew.” 

“Yeah, ew!” Finn says, wrinkling his nose. “Don’t talk about my mom like that!”

“Well, don’t call me mom, then,” Puck retorts. 

“Okay, fine.”

Puck pokes Finn’s back— _not_ where he’s sunburnt—as he finishes. “All done. Ready to spend the night on the beach?” 

“Yeah. You sure they’ll let us stay?” Finn asks.

“They don’t clear it, but we might want to sleep in spurts,” Puck admits. “Probably better not to assume we can sleep straight through from sundown to sunup.” 

“Bet it’ll be nice, though. We can listen to the waves, and I bet there’s a nice breeze.”

Puck grins and nods, stretching out on his towel. “Yeah. Maybe not college on the beach, but vacations on the beach sound like a good idea.”


	8. Rhode Island

Puck stares at the washing machine in front of him, then at the small pile of clothes still waiting. “You think we can get all of this in one load?” he asks Finn. 

“Shove as much in as we can, I guess,” Finn says.

“Yeah. Maybe you need to stop wearing underwear, so the next time we stop, the load’s smaller,” Puck says, pushing more clothes into the washer. “Think about how much room I’m saving us.” 

“Maybe you’re cool with your junk right up against your zipper, but I like a barrier in between,” Finn says. He drops in the soap tab purchased from the dispenser and waits for Puck to move his hands, then shuts the washer and begins loading the quarters. 

"Afraid of zipper mishaps?" Puck asks with a laugh. "Let's go get a snack while it washes."

“Yeah, I don’t need any kind of teeth near there, even metal ones,” Finn says, nodding his agreement about the snack. “Especially metal ones, maybe? Well, maybe all kinds of teeth are the same.”

"No teeth anywhere near, huh?" Puck says, stepping out of the coin laundry and looking around. "Never planning on a BJ?"

“I don’t think you’re supposed to use your teeth for that, dude,” Finn says. 

"You said 'near'. Pretty sure teeth have to be near," Puck says with a laugh. "Should we try one of those lemonade things?"

“Well, there’s near and then there’s _near_ ,” Finn insists. “Sure on the lemonade. I was talking about _near_ -near.”

"Uh-huh, okay," Puck says. "I think we passed one a couple of blocks back. And probably you have to convince your mom to send more money today."

“Which means I have to call her, huh?”

"Yeah, I think so," Puck admits.

“I guess we really do need more money,” Finn says, sighing. “Okay, I’ll call her.”

"We'll get the lemonade first," Puck says as they approach the lemonade stand place. "And we'll tell her about all the progress you've made on narrowing down colleges and jobs."

“ _Have_ I made progress?” Finn asks.

"Sure. We ruled out anywhere on a beach, for starters, plus all these states so far. We have…" Puck frowns, counting in his head. "We only have 41 more if we don't count Alaska or Hawaii."

“Think we can hit them all this summer for real?”

“Alaska we can technically drive to, right, but it’s kind of far. We should probably save it for winter break or something. Hawaii’ll take a few years.” Puck barely glances sideways at Finn; talking about the two of them making plans for a few years out is something Puck takes more or less for granted, and he still isn’t sure if Finn does. 

“Yeah, we’ll probably have to save up for, like, plane tickets and stuff,” Finn says. “Unless they build a bridge, I don’t think you can drive to Hawaii.”

“Probably too far for a ferry.” Puck shrugs and steps up to the window at the lemonade place. “Two of the… signature whatevers.” He pays, waits for the two cups, then hands one to Finn. “Okay, it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid, dude.” 

“Okay. I can do this,” Finn says. He takes out his phone and presses Carole’s number, holding the phone up to his ear. “Yeah, hi, Mom. It’s me.”

Puck can’t make out any words, but he can barely hear Carole yelling, and he winces. Finn’s attempt at a smile looks strained, and even that drops after Carole continues yelling for a while.

“But we’ve looked at _so_ many colleges, Mom! And we’ve ruled a bunch out!”

“And beaches!” Puck whispers. “We ruled out beach colleges.” 

“I was going to, but then I got a really bad sunburn,” Finn says, now looking sort of panicked. “I really did mean to!”

“Don’t tell her that!” Puck hisses.

Finn puts his hand over the phone and whispers back, “It’s too late! She’s tricky!”

“Just tell her we still have to look at the college in Rhode Island, and one in Connecticut, so Jersey’s a great place to wire the money, it’ll definitely get there before we do,” Puck says. 

“Rhode Island,” Finn says into the phone. “Yeah, we’re going to Connecticut, too, and, uh. We’re kinda running a little short on money. Can you wire us some to New Jersey?”

Puck winces again when he hears Carole start yelling again, and he decides that mentioning the tent might push Carole too far. “Make sure there’s enough for the mosquito netting,” he says instead. 

He stands up and walks a little further down the sidewalk, still eating his frozen lemonade thing, and he can hear Finn talking about Harrison Ford and mosquitoes and mosquito diseases, and then pausing periodically for what Puck has to assume is more yelling. Puck checks the time; they have to go back and put the clothes in the dryer, and then they can probably drive past the school they picked out in Providence before driving down to look at the fancy huge houses on the coast, which Puck thinks will probably be more interesting than whatever college is in Providence. 

When Puck’s nearly done with his lemonade, he walks back towards Finn. “Is she wiring the money?” Puck whispers. 

Finn shrugs, then nods, wincing slightly. “I will, Mom. No, I _swear_ I will. From every single one, okay?” He pauses and continues nodding while Carole’s voice still comes loudly through the phone. “I will. I love you, too, Mom.” Finn ends the call and puts the phone back in his pocket. 

“What did you have to promise?” Puck asks immediately.

“I have to get a pamphlet at every college we stop at,” Finn says. “To prove we were there and so she can look at them.”

“So are we just supposed to do nothing on the weekends when they’re closed?” Puck frowns. “What day of the week is it today, even?” 

“I have no idea. I guess that if they’re closed, we’ll just take a picture by the sign,” Finn says. “It’s not like she can make me come back.”

“Yeah, okay.” Puck shrugs. “So the place today is famous for equine management and hospitality, which is apparently managing hotels and conference centers.” 

“I thought ‘equine’ was horses,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, you either manage horses or hotels if you go to this place, I guess,” Puck says with a second shrug. “I figured we could rule out the horses part. You ever wanted to manage a hotel?” 

“Not really.”

“Entertainment venue?” 

“Like movie theaters?” Finn asks. 

“I think more like Madison Square Garden or something, but I don’t know,” Puck admits. “’Cause it mentions sports events, too.” 

“Oh. I mean, sports events are cool, but I think I’d rather watch ’em than manage ’em, you know?” Finn says. 

“Yeah, maybe a job that pays enough so you can go to sports events,” Puck says. “Still, we can at least tell your mom you ruled another place out.” 

“Cool. Maybe next time, I’ll just text her.”


	9. Connecticut

A drive-by of Johnson & Wales done and the houses in Newport looked at, the next morning Puck spends a good fifteen minutes looking for a college that’s right along the interstate they’re traveling on, because he’s pretty sure he’s sick of New England. 

“If we rule out the Coast Guard Academy, which I think we should because of the whole boats and beaches thing, that leaves Connecticut College up pretty soon,” Puck says. “That sounds good for your mom, right?” 

“Awesome, yeah,” Finn says. “I hope it’s not Sunday, so we can get a flier.”

“They have a lot of magazines. What kind of college has a fashion magazine?” 

“The kind that Kurt or Tina would go to,” Finn says.

“We can take them a flier. We’re awesome teammates,” Puck says. “By the time we get done, we’ll know where everyone else should go to college, too. Film studies, that sounds like something Tina would do, right?” 

“Yeah, that does,” Finn says. “So we’ll bring fliers for her and Kurt from here. We should make a list and try to bring everybody two or three.”

“Community service. It’s practically one of those essays they say colleges want, too. Go ahead and get off here. I don’t think Kurt would really like Connecticut, though, unless he realized how close it is to New York.” Puck pauses. “ _I_ don’t like Connecticut, no matter how close to New York it is.” 

“Yeah, we shouldn’t go to school here,” Finn agrees. “We should go to school some place _not_ Connecticut.”

“I think that rules out all of New England, so at least we’re getting somewhere. Even if we didn’t think we wanted to live here anyway.” Puck stares at a sign. “Their mascot is a camel.” 

“Dude, no way,” Finn says. “No camels. Camels are _not_ awesome mascots. Too many hump jokes.”

“Is that your school mascot?” Puck says, already laughing. “People’d just laugh without even saying the joke. Let’s get a flier without anything about the mascot, for Kurt and Tina.” 

“Good idea,” Finn says.

“I think I might be tired of seafood finally,” Puck admits. “After we get the fliers, we should find a steakhouse for tonight.” 

“Yeah, that would rock,” Finn says. “I want a steak and a potato and no lobsters.”

“Yeah, and some good bread, like at the real nice places,” Puck says. “With butter.” 

“I want lots of butter,” Finn says.

“You always want lots of butter. Remember seventh grade and the very short-lived baked potato bar in the cafeteria?” Puck asks. 

“Yeah, that was awesome.” Finn grins at Puck. 

“For _you_ ,” Puck says. “I had plans for the next week, but then they took the butter away, and it was years before I got to do it. Last year, actually.” 

“Aww, sucks you had to wait so long,” Finn says, his grin widening. 

“It _did_ ,” Puck argues. “Waiting totally does suck. It was pretty much worth it to watch ’em go down, though.” 

“You’re so mean,” Finn says, shaking his head, but he doesn’t stop grinning.

“Yeah, you thought it was pretty funny,” Puck says somewhat smugly. “We ought to come up with a really great senior prank.” 

“What, buttering people?” Finn asks. “I don’t think we can use butter for a senior prank.”

“No, it has to be bigger,” Puck says. “Something like cars parked inside the school.” 

“With butter in them.”

Puck laughs. “And syrup in the sinks.” 

“Jello in the pool?” Finn asks. 

“Jello in Sylvester’s office. Somehow.” 

“Ooh, I know!” Finn says. “We can fill the whole thing up with packing peanuts.”

Puck grins slowly. “Oh, yeah. That’s perfect. She’ll be _livid_. Worse than… when’s the worst that either of our moms were mad at us?” 

“That time you ate the whole roast chicken and your mom threw the pan at you was pretty bad,” Finn says.

“That was a really good roast chicken, and she left it out for a sixth-grader to find,” Puck says. “I still don’t know why she was so angry. But yeah. Worse than that, that’ll be Sylvester.” 

“Awesome. We’ll have to set up a camera.”

“Webcam feed. Then they’ll think it’s Jewfro and not us. Win-win,” Puck says. 

“Sweet!” Finn says. “It’s going to be a good senior year.”


	10. New Jersey

The drive from Connecticut over to New Jersey involves driving through New York City, which Puck finds almost harrowing and definitely reconfirms he doesn’t want to live there. Finn’s knuckles on the steering wheel seem to agree, enough that Puck doesn’t even bother to discuss it. 

“So next we’re going to Thomas Edison, which doesn’t actually seem to have much to do with lightbulbs or record players,” Puck says, shaking his head. 

“Weird,” Finn says. “What kind of school is that?”

“Looks like… mostly nursing.” Puck frowns. “Anyone we know that would make a good nurse?” 

“Sam,” Finn says. “And didn’t Santana do some hospital thing?”

“She’d be a terrifying nurse,” Puck says. “Maybe psychiatric nursing or something. But yeah, we’ll tell them to go to Jersey. Unless you had a hidden desire to become a labor and delivery nurse or something.” 

“Aww, I like babies!”

“Do you want to catch them all the time, though?” Puck asks. “Trust me, it’s not a beautiful process.” 

“But babies!” Finn says. 

“There’s blood,” Puck warns him. “And a bunch of liquid, and some white goop, and then they poop this black stuff right away.” 

“Ew, okay, no babies,” Finn says, grimacing. 

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Puck says. “So should we rule out anything in health care?” 

“Yeah, I don’t really want to touch goop,” Finn says.

“What about teeth? There’s always those ads about dental hygienists and stuff.”

“I don’t want to put my fingers in somebody else’s mouth,” Finn says. “That’s a no.”

“Hey, we’re narrowing down a lot of stuff,” Puck says with a grin. “That’s got to be some kind of accomplishment. There’s a lot of park space in Jersey, so it’ll be easy to find a place to sleep tonight.” 

“Yeah, maybe we can find another coin shower, too!”

“Hey, we’re picking up that money your mom was wiring, we might have enough coins for more than five minutes,” Puck says. “That’s below Trenton, too. I think we exit the Turnpike here.” Puck digs in his pocket and pulls out two crumpled dollar bills. “We do not have exact change.” 

“Well, I guess they’ll figure it out for us,” Finn says. 

“Just like they pumped the gas. Jersey’s weirdly helpful,” Puck says as they approach the toll booth. “I don’t know if I’d want to live here, though. What about you?” 

“It’s pretty, but it doesn’t feel like the right place,” Finn says. “I guess we keep going.”

“None of the colleges we’ve seen so far _look_ like a college,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Where’s the whole inspiring-learning thing?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Finn says. 

“It says the place is up here. Huh. It looks like an old factory, but I guess this is where we get the fliers,” Puck says. “We should check what day it is.” 

“You can look on my phone, if you want,” Finn says, nodding his head in the direction of the phone on the seat between them.

“Friday,” Puck says a minute later. “So Delaware won’t get a flier, I guess. Well, TGIF.” 

“Funny how Friday doesn’t really matter as much now, though.”

“Every day is Friday,” Puck says with a grin. “That’s definitely a bonus.” They park, walk in for long enough to get two fliers, then head back out to the truck. “We should ask one of these places for a free bag, to keep the fliers in.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Finn says. “That way they’re all in one place.”

“We’ll ask at a school in… Virginia, I guess,” Puck says. “Let’s go on to a park. After the seafood and the steak, vending machine dinner doesn’t sound so bad tonight.” 

“Yeah, I was kind of looking forward to some bugles, anyway.”

“Sad, sad life,” Puck says, shaking his head. They travel down the Turnpike for a little longer before getting off and driving around long enough to find a park area with some picnic tables, six different vending machines, and bathrooms with only one shower each, but at least it’s not coin-operated. Puck’s weirdly relieved to get in the shower by himself, and he does a decent job of _not_ thinking about how Finn was just in the same shower a few minutes earlier. 

After vending machine dinner, which turns out to include vending machine ice cream for dessert, Puck and Finn climb in the back of the truck, promising themselves that they’ll spend part of Saturday finding mosquito netting, and they lie there for a long time, watching the sunset and the stars coming out slowly. Puck’s not even sure exactly when he drifts from sleepy shooting the breeze to asleep, but he’s very aware of exactly when he wakes up. 

There is rain pouring down on them, and lightning flashes a few seconds later, enough for Puck to make out Finn’s face, looking somehow calm and horrified at the same time. “Holy shit!” Puck yells as the thunder crashes. 

“Let’s get in the truck!” Finn shouts over the rain and thunder. 

“We’re gonna freeze!” Puck says, but he nods and starts to get up, ready to vault over the side of the truck. It isn’t until he’s inside the truck, shivering, that he realizes he probably should have grabbed his bag. It’s waterproof enough, but he wants to be dry, not wet, and he pulls off his shirt. 

“I’m gonna take off these wet clothes,” Finn says, then looks over at Puck and laughs. “Oh, you’re already, like, way ahead of me!” He grabs Puck’s beach towel from behind the seat and chucks it at him before starting to undress, toweling himself off as he goes. 

Puck peels off his wet shorts, dropping them in the floorboard before trying to wrap the beach towel around his waist without actually standing up. “The sky was fucking clear when we went to sleep!” 

“Yeah, guess it’s a pop-up,” Finn says. “Maybe that means it’ll be done soon.” As he strips his wet clothes off, he rubs his arms and legs with his beach towel. “I’ve got my bag in here, so if you want boxers and a T-shirt, you can grab ’em.”

“You don’t like my towel-skirt?” Puck jokes, trying not to stare at Finn each time the lightning flashes and illuminates the inside of the truck. He does reach for Finn’s bag and grab a T-shirt that ends up being only moderately too big. 

“Yeah, it’s super fashionable,” Finn says. “You can totally wear that the rest of the trip.”

“If it just had those pleat things, I’d tell people it was a kilt,” Puck says. “I don’t think they’d believe I was Scottish, though.” 

“Yeah, you don’t look Scottish,” Finn says.

“What _do_ I look like?” Puck asks. “And don’t tell me Ohioan.” 

Finn shrugs. “You look like Puck.”

“Well, at least I look like myself,” Puck says wryly. He leans his head back against the seat, and the two of them are quiet as the storm keeps going, the rain loud on the roof of the truck. They sit for so long that Puck’s not even sure Finn’s still awake. 

It’s probably the rain, or the fact that it’s been several days in the truck, or maybe because Puck’s only had a few hours of sleep, so his brain isn’t really filtering, but he keeps looking out the window and decides to just blurt something out – assuming Finn’s awake to hear it. 

“I never said it was a girl.” 

“Huh?” Finn says, sounding half-asleep. “What girl?”

“There’s not a girl,” Puck says. “That’s what I’m saying.” 

“Who’s not a girl?”

Puck laughs for a second. “Well, neither of us, for starters.” It even sounds like something he thinks that would be said, if the person he was in love with wasn’t Finn. “But back in New Hampshire. I never said it was a girl.” 

“Oh,” Finn says, now sounding a little more awake. “So it’s a guy? That you love?”

“Yeah,” Puck says quietly, sighing a little. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Finn is quiet for a long time, the only noise the sounds of the rain and thunder outside the truck. 

“I don’t know what it means,” Puck says, again after he thinks Finn could have fallen asleep. “When it’s only ever been one person…” 

Finn doesn’t answer at first, and Puck thinks he must have been right, and Finn is asleep again, but then he asks softly, “Am I a bad friend?”

“Huh?” Puck asks. “What do you mean?” 

“’Cause I didn’t know,” Finn says. “I feel like I should’ve known, but I didn’t.”

“I didn’t _want_ you to know. Anyone to know.” Puck shrugs, even if he’s not sure if Finn can see it. “I got pretty good at hiding it pretty fast.” 

“Did you think you couldn’t tell me?” Finn asks. 

“How long do you think I’ve been hiding it?” Puck asks. “I guarantee you, it’s longer than you’re thinking.” 

“Okay. Well, uh.” Finn shifts so he’s facing Puck, his arm draped over the back of the seat. “Thanks for telling me now, I guess.”

Puck shrugs again. “Like I said, I don’t know what it means. Guess it just means I’m not straight?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “You’re still Puck, though.”

Puck laughs a little, and he hopes Finn doesn’t notice that it’s a little strained. “Yeah, that’s me,” he agrees. 

“Yeah,” Finn says again, more sleepily this time. His head is resting on his arm, and his eyes are already closed. Puck smiles to himself, watching Finn fall asleep, and he sighs a little, feeling mostly content. Finn could have flipped out, or been shocked, but if anything, it felt like Finn was almost hurt that Puck hadn’t told him sooner. Puck shakes his head a little and lets his head fall to one shoulder, closing his eyes while the rain keeps beating down.


	11. Delaware

They’re thirty minutes into Delaware when Finn suddenly asks, “So, is it Kurt?”

Puck has to process that for a few seconds before he shakes his head. “No, not Kurt. Hell, if it was Kurt, why wouldn’t I have just gone for it?” 

Finn shrugs. “I don’t know how this stuff works,” he says.

“I’m just saying, I’m usually someone who takes what I want,” Puck says. “I mean, it’s different, but it’s not.” 

“Okay,” Finn says, nodding. Another few minutes pass, then he asks, “Is it Sam?”

“Dude, we’ve only known him for a year.” 

“Well, maybe a year feels like a long time to love somebody,” Finn says. “But okay, not Sam. Hey, what about that guy who was cornerback in middle school?”

“I don’t remember his name, either,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Not him. Why, do you think he’s cute?” 

“No, he kind of looked like a porcupine,” Finn says.

Puck laughs. “So you think I have bad taste?” 

“I don’t know what you like. Maybe you’re into porcupines!”

“I swear I’m not into porcupines,” Puck says as solemnly as he can. “Or rodents.” 

“So not Jewfro, then?” Finn says, already laughing. 

“Ugh,” Puck says, making a face and shaking his head. “That’s disgusting. Also, _way_ too much hair.” 

“So not Rick the Stick either?”

“God, that’s awful,” Puck says, still shaking his head. “Do you secretly hate me?” 

“Of course not,” Finn says. “I just want you to be happy. I’m helping!”

“You think I could be happy with Rick the Stick?” Puck laughs. “That’s not a good kind of help.” 

“Hey! I said _not_ Rick the Stick!” Finn protests. 

“You’re getting warmer, then.” 

“Oh, is that what we’re playing?” Finn asks.

“Sure, why not?” Puck agrees. It’s probably easier than a constant stream of ‘no’ to whatever names Finn comes up with.

“Okay, then. Mike,” Finn guesses. 

“Hmm. Colder,” Puck says, because Mike is shorter, has darker hair, and, Puck has to admit, can dance a lot better than Finn.

“Okay. Colder. Hmm.” Finn frowns, squinting at the road as he thinks. “Was it Matt?”

“Also colder,” Puck says, shaking his head. 

“Uh. Mr. Schuester?” Finn asks. 

Puck fake-shudders. “Very very cold.” 

“Is he on the football team?”

“Ye— warmer.” 

“Okay. Is it, uh… Lutsen?”

“Warmer,” Puck says, because Lutsen’s at least pretty tall. 

“Fletcher?”

“Warmer.” Fletcher’s one of the nicer guys on the team, and no one would argue Finn isn’t nice. 

“Gottlieb?” Finn asks. “Theissen?” 

“Colder and warmer,” Puck says. Gottlieb is huge, but Theissen’s hair is almost the same color as Finn’s.

“This isn’t helping at all,” Finn says. “I’m just gonna list off a bunch of names and you say warm if any of them are warm, okay?”

“If _any_ of them are?” Puck says. “Okay.” 

“Branski, Mason, McElroy, Brown, Karofsky, Smith,” Finn lists. “Anybody?”

“Warmer, but _not_ Karofsky or Smith,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Brown’s a neutral.”

“Walker. Adams?”

“Colder, and very colder,” Puck says. “I’m not going to fall in love with a complete jackass, you know.” 

“Derecho? Williams?” Finn continues. “I’m running out of names!”

“Isn’t that a weather thing? Are you sure it’s really his last name?” Puck asks, shaking his head. “Both colder.” 

“Well shit, I give up,” Finn says, sighing loudly.

“I never said I was actually going to make sure you could figure it out,” Puck says, grinning. 

“I guess if you don’t really want me to know…” Finn grins back at Puck. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Oh trust me,” Puck says, trying not to sound too wry about the entire thing. “You’ll know.” 

“Cool,” Finn says. “So, have you ever, you know?”

“Ever what? Said anything to him?” 

“Ever kissed a guy,” Finn finishes. 

“Oh. No,” Puck says. “Hand job. That’s it.” 

“Oh, for real?” Finn asks. “Was it cool?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, most sex and related stuff is,” Puck says. “But I think he thought I was just going along with it for the whole threesome thing.” 

“Dude, you’ve done _all_ the awesome stuff,” Finn says.

Puck laughs. “Yeah, and here _I_ have a list of all the shit I haven’t done, in my head.” 

“Do you think it’s, like, _really_ different?” Finn asks. “From kissing a girl, I mean.”

Puck shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I never planned on kissing that many guys, you know?” 

“I just always kind of wondered,” Finn says.

“Maybe I’ll let you know sometime,” Puck says with a half-grin. 

“Yeah, you should do that,” Finn says. “I hope it works out for you.”

Puck keeps the half-grin on his face. “Yeah, me too.” 

“So you want to tell me where I need to turn for— what college am I looking for?”

"Goldey-Beacom," Puck says. "For the future business executive. And two more exits."

“Cool.”

"You interested in business? Accounting?" Puck asks.

“Not really,” Finn says. “Just plain ‘business’ doesn’t sound like a lot of fun.”

“Maybe Brittany. She’d keep everyone off-balance in negotiations or whatever business people do,” Puck says. 

“We’ll get her a— oh crap, it’s Saturday, isn’t it? No flier.”

“We can handwrite a flier and she’d think it was real,” Puck points out. “And there it is on the right. It looks… really business-park-y.” 

“That’s super ugly,” Finn says. 

“I’m writing that in the book. ‘Too ugly to attend’,” Puck says. “Your mom can’t argue with that.” Puck puts down the college guide and looks back at his phone. “How does Lums Pond State Park sound for tonight? They have a store, so we can get mosquito netting, and camping, so probably some showers.” 

“Sure. Sounds good to me. Especially the mosquito netting part, ’cause I’m really tired of mosquitos.”

“Yeah, your arm is like twice as big as usual around your wrist,” Puck says. “Hey, it’s got a ropes course thing. Zip lines and everything.” 

“Cool. We should do that,” Finn says. “Maybe we can be ropes course guys. Do they have college for that?”

“It sounds like something they do out west. Outdoor education.” Puck grins. “See, I’m learning all the college lingo.” 

“Yeah, you’re like my own personal college sign-up person,” Finn says.

“Is that a job?” Puck asks, then shakes his head. “No, most people whine too much.” 

“But not me,” Finn says. “I only whine when I’m sunburned.”

“Keep putting on sunscreen, then, and we’ll be fine.”


	12. Maryland

“We’re going to Annapolis, but not to the Naval Academy,” Puck says as soon as they cross into Maryland the next almost-afternoon. “So don’t worry about having to do push-ups and shave your head. Unless military life was something you were thinking about.” 

“Nope.”

“Good, that’s at least eight or so schools off the list right there,” Puck says. “Today’s college is to impress your mom, and since it’s Sunday, you can text her the picture and everything.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Let’s do it fast and then find something fun to do.”

“After we hit Baltimore, we go down I–97. We could go into D.C. after that. I don’t know how fun D.C. is, but most stuff is free.” 

“Awesome. Maybe we’ll see the President!”

“Hey, that’s a job. You sure you don’t want to work for the Secret Service or something?” Puck says. 

“I think you have to go to one of the military schools for that,” Finn says. 

“Oh, weird,” Puck says. “Okay, most stuff in D.C. is run by the Park Service. You want to be a park ranger?”

“I could be a park ranger,” Finn says. “I don’t think I like the uniforms, though.”

“Should we rule out anything with uniforms? You don’t like the military or park rangers,” Puck says. “Make sure when you text your mom that you tell her this college reads Great Books. That’s capitalized.” 

“What’s so capital-G Great about them?” Finn asks. 

“I bet they’re old,” Puck says. “Old and famous.” 

“Old, famous, and Great,” Finn says. “That’ll make Mom happy.”

“See? They have another campus in New Mexico. We’ll get her a flier there. You know who’d like that college?” 

“Who?”

“Quinn,” Puck says. “Think about it. She’s always reading those books in the back of the room before we start glee club.” 

“Yeah. That would be great for her,” Finn says. 

“We’re going to take Ms. Pillsbury’s job for the year,” Puck says, feeling almost smug. “I guess we should find a dance college for Mike.” 

“Maybe we should be Ms. Pillsburys,” Finn says. “Do the college thing. We’re awesome at it.”

“Do you think if we combined Ms. Pillsbury and Coach Sylvester, they wouldn’t whine?” Puck asks. “At least no one in glee club whines.” He pauses. “Well, about college. So far.”

“Still got a year,” Finn points out.

“We’ll work on it over the summer, how we’re going to tell them there’s no whining in glee club,” Puck says. “If we can make that happen, we can be Ms. Pillsburys.” 

“Okay, good. We have at least one career choice picked out,” Finn says. “Mom’ll be happy.”

“Yeah, exactly. Hey, D.C.’s not a state, but it’s a… separate place. We should take a whole day there. See the White House and everything,” Puck says. “That way we have time to stop and get some ice cream after today’s picture.” 

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Finn says. “I’ll be glad to take a little break from driving. The truck’s starting to smell kind of weird.”

“Maybe we should find one of those coin-operated vacuums for it or something,” Puck says. “I don’t think we can afford to pay someone else to do it.” 

“I think the carwashes with the vacuums have the scented carpet shampoo sometimes, too,” Finn says.

“Yeah, but I never have figured out what ‘tropical’ flavor is,” Puck says. “Is it pineapple? Coconut?”

“It’s piña colada.”

“Yeah?” Puck makes a face, then shrugs. “Yeah, I guess that works out okay.” 

“Hey Puck?” Finn asks.

“Yeah?”

“Do _you_ like piña coladas?” Finn sings at him.

Puck half-grimaces, half-grins, trying not to laugh as he whacks at Finn’s arm with some loose napkins. “Jerk!” 

“You love it,” Finn says. 

Puck shakes his head, trying to act like he’s half-put out as he stares at the window. “Yeah, that’s it,” he manages to say, and he thinks it probably doesn’t sound too weird, probably at least a little sarcastic, even if Finn’s actually one hundred percent right.

“It’s totally it,” Finn says. “You think I’m the funniest. You want me to sing about piña coladas to you all the time.”

“I think you’d get sick of the piña colada song.” 

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t get sick of singing it at you.”

Puck laughs again. It’s not anything close to a declaration of anything, but it still sounds pretty good. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Guess I know how I’ll be waking you up for the rest of the road trip,” Finn says. 

"Not if I wake you up first. 'Put the lime in the coconut…'," Puck says, still laughing.

“It’s coconuts either way,” Finn says. 

There’s a joke in there, Puck’s pretty sure, about coconuts and boobs and girls, but he doesn’t have to make that joke anymore, not with Finn, so he just grins. “We’ll pick up some coconut water or something in D.C.,” he says. “Or maybe just some macaroons.”


	13. District of Columbia

The truck looks and smells a lot better by the time they arrive in D.C., thanks to a car wash, a vacuum, and ‘tropical’ flavor carpet cleaner, and when Finn and Puck are talking to someone at the car wash place, she recommends they check out one of the hostels in D.C. for a night or two. Two nights in a sparse room with access to communal showers and a couple of washers and dryers sounds like a pretty good deal to them, so they spend the first night in D.C. doing laundry again, taking extra long showers, and getting some sleep on a real mattress. 

Puck decides when he wakes up the next morning that he can get away with singing very very quietly, since the other guys in the almost-barracks-like room had seemed pretty cool. He climbs down from the top bunk and leans over, his mouth close to Finn’s ear but not too close. 

“Put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up,” Puck sings softly. 

“No,” Finn whines, rolling towards the wall.

“I called the doctor woke him up, I said, Doctor,” Puck continues, moving with Finn. 

“I’m not your doctor. Lemme alone.”

“Doctor! Is there nothing I can take?” Puck sings. “Time to explore the nation’s capital, dude.” 

“But it’s a real bed!” Finn complains, rolling away from the wall to glare at Puck.

“And we get to sleep in the real beds again tonight,” Puck says. “But if you don’t get up soon, we’re going to miss breakfast hours at every single fast food restaurant.” 

“Fiiiiiine,” Finn complains. “What are you so perky about?”

Puck shrugs. “I have a good feeling about the rest of the country. We’re going to find someplace perfect. And I checked out a basketball and a Frisbee from the front desk.” 

“Well, then God bless America, I guess,” Finn says, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“If you get up early enough tomorrow, you can return the favor,” Puck says. “Meet you downstairs?”

“Yeah, I’ll be down in like five.”

Puck straightens and nods, grabbing his wallet and heading out of the room. The worker said there was a McDonald’s a few blocks away, and Puck figures some Egg McMuffins and some Horse are a good start to the morning. After about five minutes, Puck hears Finn coming down the stairs, and he stands up before he can overanalyze that he’s one hundred percent certain it’s Finn, despite the number of people coming and going. 

“Ready?” he asks when Finn does appear at the bottom of the staircase. 

“Yep,” Finn says. “Let’s go be patriotic or something.”

“Or something,” Puck agrees. “We should go up in the Washington Monument. I think that’s free.” 

“You think I can fit inside it?” Finn asks.

“If you can’t, we can sue the federal government,” Puck says cheerfully, turning out of the hostel in the direction of the supposed McDonald’s. “And then we can throw the Frisbee around in front of it.” 

“Awesome.”

“There’s supposed to be a McDonald’s down in the next block,” Puck says. “But there’s no sign out front, so we have to keep looking for it. Cities.” 

“Yeah. Cities are weird,” Finn says.

“At least the bigger ones. I told the guy what we were doing and he was all, there are colleges inside D.C., but I told him we weren’t really looking for the big city experience.” 

“I think I don’t want to be this close to the president, in case there’s, like, alien invasions or terrorist attacks,” Finn says. 

“Oh, good point,” Puck says, making a face. “Alien terrorists, even. Oh, there’s the McDonald’s. I found a college for Virginia, though.” 

“Yeah? What kind? Is it a tobacco college?” Finn asks. “Don’t they grow lots of tobacco in Virginia?”

“Yeah, maybe?” Puck says. “But I don’t think they have tobacco colleges. William and Mary. It’s in the middle of some colonial recreation.” 

“Cool. Would we have to dress up in costumes?”

“The book didn’t mention any costumes, so probably not,” Puck says. “Two or three?”

“Two and some hashbrowns today,” Finn says. “And coffee. A huge one.”

“Yeah, yeah, I figured that,” Puck says, stepping up to the counter and placing their order. “Oh, did we rule out ‘federal bureaucrat’? You could work for, like, the military or the treasury or… labor? Is that one of the departments?”

“Yeah. I think they’re in charge of holidays,” Finn says. “That’s why it’s called Labor Day.”

“Huh.” Puck shrugs. “Well, do you want to work for them?”

“Who wants to work on a holiday?” Finn asks. 

“So that’s a no? No federal job for Finn Hudson?” Puck says with a grin. “Hopefully your mom wasn’t dreaming of her son, the bureaucrat.”

“I think she’s just dreaming of me moving out so I don’t eat all her food,” Finn says.

“Stockpile it all during the school year,” Puck says. “Squirrel away cans and boxes of granola bars.” 

“I don’t think I can stockpile her frozen dinners though,” Finn says.

“Yeah, probably not,” Puck says. “Too bad.” He gets their food and walks over to a table. “Maybe convince her to buy you gift cards for food.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Finn says. 

“Horse after we eat?” Puck asks, unwrapping his own McMuffins.

“You know you can’t beat me,” Finn says, through a mouthful of hashbrown. “I’m like two feet taller than you.”

“I’m a giving sort of person. I’m building up your ego,” Puck says. “You can return the favor when we stop at batting cages somewhere.” 

“Yeah. Ouch.”

“No regrets about not being on McKinley’s baseball team?” Puck jokes. 

“Yeah, I definitely regret not playing the sport I suck at the most,” Finn says. 

“I think you’d be worse at wrestling, but maybe not,” Puck says, then takes a huge bite of his McMuffin before he can say anything really stupid. 

“I still think I’ve got the size thing going for me, but I’ll wrestle you later if you need me to prove it,” Finn says.

Puck coughs, McMuffin still in his mouth, and at least that gives him an excuse to cover his mouth and look down. He keeps coughing for a few more seconds, then clears his throat a few more times and takes a sip of coffee. “Probably not at the hostel,” he finally answers. “Maybe you should wrestle a gator in Florida.” 

“I could be a gator wrestle professionally,” Finn says. “Like Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin.”

“Steve Irwin’s _dead_ ,” Puck says. “I think that’s a bad choice. I’m exercising veto power.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t die from alligators.”

“Don’t particularly care,” Puck says after a moment’s thought, and he shrugs. “No Croc Hunter job.” 

“You’re not my mom, dude,” Finn says. “You can’t tell me I can’t be a Croc Hunter.”

“You wouldn’t listen to your mom. You’ll listen to me,” Puck says smugly. “You know it’s a bad idea.” 

“It would be a cool job,” Finn insists.

“Cool to watch someone else do. Not you,” Puck says firmly. “I told you, I’m exercising my veto power.” 

“Who gave you veto power?”

“Me. Also you, because I’m your best friend, and that’s part of the job.” Puck shrugs. “I don’t make the rules, dude.” 

“Yeah, I guess you’ve got a point,” Finn concedes, unwrapping his second McMuffin. 

Puck grins, mostly to himself, and drinks more of his coffee, because if nothing else, he’s managed to keep Finn from becoming the American Crocodile Hunter. Alligator Hunter, he guesses. After they finish their breakfast, they walk back to the hostel and play Horse around the back, where Finn does in fact kick Puck’s ass, as predicted. Then Puck turns in the basketball and they head towards the Washington Monument, stopping at the foot of it. 

“Ready?” Puck says, examining their timed-entry ticket when it finally reaches the appointed time. 

Finn looks warily up at the Monument. “Still not so sure I’ll fit up there.”

“I’ll push you up the last few stairs if you need it,” Puck says with a grin, heading inside and starting to take the stairs. “You fit so far.” 

“It’s higher than I thought it’d be,” Finn says.

“I think it’s the tallest thing in D.C.?” Puck says as they keep heading up. “Probably a great view.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Finn says, but he sounds kind of dubious. 

“You’re not still scared of heights like you were on the ferris wheel at the fair in middle school, are you?” Puck asks, feeling slightly suspicious. 

“Uh. No?”

“Dude,” Puck says, shaking his head and looking over his shoulder. “You should have said something.” 

“No, it’s cool, I’m fine,” Finn insists.

“Seriously, why didn’t you say anything?” 

Finn shrugs. “I dunno.”

“You’re such a dork,” Puck says, rolling his eyes and grinning at the same time. “We made it up here anyway. You going to look?” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Finn says, slowly edging towards the small window. “Yeah. We’re up high. Cool.” He steps back from the window after only a quick glance out.

“C’mon,” Puck says, staring at the view from each side for a few seconds before throwing an arm around Finn’s shoulders. “You want to go back down and throw the Frisbee?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that a lot better than being up here,” Finn says, though it feels like he relaxes a little under Puck’s arm.

“You should have said something,” Puck says as they start back down. “We could have, I don’t know. Gone to the Capitol instead, maybe.” 

“You wanted to go to the Washington Monument,” Finn says. 

“Like I said. Dork,” Puck says, shaking his head. When they get back to the ground, though, he drops it, moving his arm from Finn’s shoulders at the same time. They toss the Frisbee for awhile, then get roped into a game of Ultimate that turns into a second game and a third game. 

By the time they get back to the hostel, Puck winces when he looks at Finn. “Go get the lotion,” he says, sitting down in the common area downstairs. 

“Okay,” Finn says, turning to walk upstairs. He comes back about three minutes later with the lotion, looking confused. “Your bed’s taken.”

“Oh.” Puck isn’t sure what kind of face he makes, taking the lotion from Finn and trying to process that while starting to put the after-sun on Finn’s face. “I guess the third game of Ultimate was a bad idea.” 

“You can have my bed,” Finn says. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“You were looking forward to the real mattress,” Puck points out, moving to Finn’s less-red arms. “I guess… I mean, it’s not like we’ve not squeezed on your bed before.” 

“Okay, that’s cool,” Finn says. 

It apparently isn’t a big deal to Finn, but Puck figures it’ll be a lighter sleep than he was planning on that night, squeezed onto a twin bed next to Finn. It’s better than the floor or the back of the truck, though, and Puck knows it probably makes the most sense. He finishes with the after-sun, closing it and handing it back to Finn. 

“Go put this up, and we’ll figure out dinner or something?” Puck suggests, sitting back a little in his chair. 

“Okay. I’ll be right back,” Finn says, heading towards the stairs with the lotion.

Puck nods and runs his hands over his face and head for a moment before looking up, noticing a girl watching him from his left. “What?” he asks curiously. 

The girl shrugs. “I don’t blame you. He’s totally cute.”

“Uh. It’s… not exactly like that,” Puck says. “I mean, yeah, he is.” 

“I think he’s into you. You should go for it,” she says. 

“Nah,” Puck says, shaking his head. “He’s still hung up on his ex- _girl_ friend.” 

Finn’s loud footsteps come thumping down the stairs, and the girl has just enough time to say “Bummer” before he appears in the room. 

“What’s a bummer?” Finn asks, flopping onto the floor in front of Puck’s chair and leaning his head back on the chair’s arm.

“That we don’t, uh. Have a chance to… cure your fear of heights,” Puck says quickly. 

“Dude!” Finn whispers. “Don’t _tell_ people!”

The girl laughs. “Yeah, you’re right, that _is_ too bad.”

“We don’t even know her name,” Puck says somewhat wryly. “I think it’s okay.” 

“Did you figure out dinner without me?” Finn asks. 

“Nope,” Puck says overly cheerfully. “Maybe we should splurge and order a pizza.” 

“I’ll chip in a couple of bucks if you get enough to share,” the girl says. 

“We’re not vegetarian or kosher or anything,” Puck warns her. 

“Cool, me neither,” the girl says. 

While they wait for the pizza to show up, they find out that the girl’s name is Ashley and she’s from North Carolina, and after they explain what they’re doing, criss-crossing the country, she tells them about a school in North Carolina, Elon, that sounds pretty much perfect for Kurt, so Puck decides that’ll be their North Carolina stop, picking up the materials for Kurt. 

After the pizza, Puck suggests they go to bed early, since it’ll be a little cramped, and that ends up meaning Puck has about thirty minutes to lie awake after Finn’s fallen asleep, barely able to make him out in the mostly-dark room, and just before Puck falls asleep, he gives in and curls on his side towards Finn, because in the end, why the hell not. He’s not making Finn hold him or anything; he’s probably not as close to Finn as Finn thought he would be, even. With that thought in mind, Puck finally falls asleep, most of the room still empty.


	14. Virginia

“Okay, _this_ is what a college should look like,” Puck says the next day when they drive up to the campus of William  & Mary. “See?” 

“Wow. Yeah. That’s pretty,” Finn says.

“And it’s not in a huge city, either,” Puck says. “No subways or hidden McDonald’s.” 

“I like it. We should get some good fliers for here.”

“Yeah, there’s got to be something we’d like offered here,” Puck says as Finn parks. “Hey, do you want to dress up? Reenactor? Is that a career?”

“I don’t know. It might be cool,” Finn says. “The hats are kinda lame.”

“Well, do you like history enough to do it?” Puck asks. 

“Do you think I’d have to take a lot of history classes?”

“I’m going to take that as a ‘no’?” Puck says, following the signs to the building where they can get the fliers. “So no history lecturing in your future?”

“Could you see me giving a history lecture?” Finn asks. 

“Well… yeah,” Puck admits. “History of, like, the Browns.” 

“But not the history of Pilgrims or whatever they do here.”

“They might have a sports history thing, you never know,” Puck says, lowering his voice as they walk into the building. “See, I told you I had a good feeling about the rest of the country. We need two or three places for _you_ , too.”

Finn stops in his tracks, the look on his face a mix of confusion and what might be worry. “Hey, Puck? Where do _you_ want to go to school?”

“Not OSU,” Puck says flippantly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, like, you keep asking me what I want to do, do I want to be a ranger, do I want to be a whatever,” Finn says, “but what about you? What do _you_ want to do? Where are _you_ planning on going?”

“Uh.” Puck keeps walking slowly, not looking at Finn, as he tries to figure out a better response than ‘I’ll figure out what I want to do once we get wherever you’re going’. “You know, I figured I’d do the whole gen-ed thing for the first year or so,” Puck says. “People not places.” 

“Maybe we should look at a few schools for you,” Finn says. “See what they’ve got that you want to do.”

“Hey, we’re going to fifty different colleges, give or take,” Puck says. “I’m fine.” 

“But what if you end up in Washington and I end up in Idaho?” Finn asks.

“Well, that’s next to each other, unless I mixed up Wyoming and Washington again,” Puck says. “And anyway, like I said. People, not places.” One person, really, but it’s probably better for Finn to think there’s some nebulous other guy out there.

Finn nods, but he doesn’t look too certain. “Okay,” he says.

By the time they get the fliers and get back to the truck, Puck feels like he needs a nap. “Why am I so fucking tired?” he asks Finn. “I didn’t sleep that bad, considering we were on a twin bed.” 

“We’ve been traveling hard for a couple of weeks,” Finn says. “Maybe it’s just catching up to you. You can take a nap if you want to.”

“I don’t _want_ to,” Puck says, feeling irritable about the entire thing. “But I might. We’re going to the James River National Wildlife Refuge. No camping, but we should be able to get some good sleep for a while.” 

“I can wake you up to eat,” Finn says.

“Yeah,” Puck says, leaning his head against the window. “That’s good.” Puck tries to stay awake for at least ten or fifteen minutes, but eventually he falls asleep, waking up to Finn offering him food, and he yawns, noticing that he still feels tired. 

“You want to go back to sleep?” Finn asks. “You still look sorta rough.”

“I’ll eat first,” Puck says, but he knows Finn’s probably right, and once he finishes eating, he crawls into the back of the truck and stretches out under the mosquito netting, the sun still out.


	15. North Carolina

Puck isn’t really sure how they got from the wildlife refuge to I–85 South outside the Raleigh-Durham area, but that’s where they are, headed to Elon to get fliers for Kurt and, Puck mentally concedes, maybe Rachel too. He yawns and leans his head against the glass of the window for a few moments before turning to Finn. 

“How long did I sleep?” he mumbles. “And why’s it so cold in here?”

Finn reaches over and puts his hand on Puck’s forehead. “You’re hot,” Finn says.

“Huh? I just said I was cold,” Puck argues. 

“No, you’re seriously hot,” Finn says. “I think you’ve got a fever.”

“Oh.” Puck frowns and then sighs, slumping against the window again. “Okay.” 

“Do you feel okay? Other than being cold, I mean?”

“’M still tired,” Puck says. “And I feel like I had a hard workout an hour or so ago.” 

“Maybe you should go back to sleep for a little while,” Finn says. “Sleep until we get to Elon. I’m kinda worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Puck says, but he can’t convince his body to stay awake, and the next thing he knows, Finn is parking at a college that Puck assumes is Elon. “Huh?”

“Yeah, you’re definitely sick,” Finn announces.

“It’s probably just a cold,” Puck says, then sighs. “My throat hurts.” 

“I’ll go in for the fliers and I’ll see if they have any Tylenol or something, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Puck agrees, and he jumps when Finn gets back. “That was fast.” 

“Dude, I was in there for over twenty minutes,” Finn says. He feels Puck’s forehead again, frowning. “I think you’re hotter than you were, even.”

“Sun,” Puck says. 

“I couldn’t find anything in there, so we’ll go hit up a drug store,” Finn says. He starts the car and backs out of the space, occasionally looking over at Puck. “Anything else hurt?”

Puck frowns, then nods. “Head,” he says with a wince. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, I’ll get you some stuff at the drug store,” Finn says. 

“I don’t want to go in a drug store,” Puck says. 

“It’s okay. I’ll go in. It’s cool.”

“No, it’s hot.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Finn says. “You can stay in the truck.”

“The truck is hot,” Puck mumbles, but he doesn’t move, and Finn somehow climbs into the truck a second time. 

“Hey, Puck? Wake up and take this.”

“Take what?” Puck asks, reaching out without opening his eyes, because it’s really sunny and the light hurts. 

“Here,” Finn says, pressing a few pills into Puck’s hand, and holding a Gatorade in front of his face. “Put them in your mouth and swallow them, okay?”

“Okay,” Puck says, cringing at the way the Gatorade feels on his throat as he takes the pills. 

“I got you some throat things, too,” Finn says. He hands a bag to Puck. “They’re honey-lemon flavor, ’cause I know you hate the fake cherry ones.”

“Real cherries are good,” Puck says, and he makes himself sit up long enough to finish one of the lozenges. “Can I sleep again?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says softly, or at least he sounds like he says it softly. “Get some rest.”

Puck nods and closes his eyes again, and the next time he wakes up, the truck is still again, and it’s under some thick trees. “Park already?” he asks, or tries to, but his voice sounds awful even to him. 

“Hey. Take another couple of these,” Finn says, and the pills and Gatorade appear in front of Puck’s face again. This time, Puck barely sips at the Gatorade, and he hands it back to Finn while making a face. 

“You want another throat drop?”

“Okay?” Puck manages, but he pops one in and blinks a lot as he looks around. “Nice park.” 

“Yeah, it’s really pretty around here,” Finn says. He puts the back of his hand on Puck’s forehead, frowning deeply. “Puck, I think you’re really running a fever.”

“It’s hot outside,” Puck says, closing his eyes again. “Don’t feed me dinner.” 

“You need to eat something, though.” Finn’s hand brushes over Puck’s forehead again, then lightly strokes the top of Puck’s head. “I’ll check in with you in a little while, okay? Maybe you’ll want to eat then.”

Puck shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything else, and it’s a lot darker when he wakes up again. “That’s better,” he says, reaching for the lozenges.

“Hungry?” Finn asks.

Puck frowns, then slowly shakes his head. “No. But the dark’s nice.” 

“You want a little more Gatorade?”

“Not really.” 

“You want to sleep more?”

“Yeah. Bedtime, right?” Puck tries to grin, but he’s not sure he manages it. 

“Yeah. I think we’d better sleep in the cab tonight,” Finn says. “I’ll roll the windows down.”

Puck nods and takes his shirt off. “It’s hot,” he says, balling it up and leaning his head on it, but a few minutes later, he starts shivering, and Finn throws the beach towels over him.


	16. South Carolina

“Puck?” Finn’s voice cuts into the weird dream Puck’s having. “Puck?” Finn’s hand rests against Puck’s forehead. “Shit, you’re burning up.”

“Don’t shoot the bat,” Puck says. 

“There’s no bat,” Finn says, his hand still on Puck’s head. “I don’t even have a gun.”

“My bat’s gone?” Puck says, feeling sad, and he pulls away from Finn’s hand. “Poor bat.” 

“No, he’s okay. He’s in the back, okay? I didn’t lose your bat,” Finn says. He runs his hand over Puck’s hair a few times. “You can go back to sleep. It’s okay. I’ll take care of your bat.”

“You should pet him like that. It’s nice,” Puck says. 

“Okay,” Finn says, continuing to pet Puck’s head. “Here, you should lie down.” He applies gentle pressure to the side of Puck’s head, encouraging him to lie down. “You’re really burning up, Puck. You’re really sick.”

Puck lies down, closing his eyes again. “Different,” he says. 

“It’s okay. We’ll get it figured out,” Finn promises. 

When Puck opens his eyes again, his head is on Finn’s leg, Finn’s hand is on Puck’s chest, and it feels like the truck is moving really fast. “NASCAR?”

“I’m taking you to a hospital,” Finn says. 

“They’ll make us wash dishes!” 

“It’s okay. I’ll do whatever I’ve gotta do,” Finn says. “You’re really sick. You need doctors.”

“I’m fine.” Puck forces himself not to sound too hoarse. “Just give me more pills.” 

“I tried to. You wouldn’t take them. We’re going to a hospital.” 

“Bankrupt us,” Puck says, and then he closes his eyes again, because he can’t remember why he wanted to keep them open. 

The next thing he hears is Finn’s half of a phone call, maybe, and he’s still lying on Finn’s leg, but they aren’t in the truck. “Where?” 

“We’re in the E.R.,” Finn says quietly, then he starts talking into the phone again. “No, they didn’t say. I’ll call you when they do, though.”

“That’s not a state,” Puck says.

“Shh,” Finn tells him, running his hand over Puck’s hair over and over. 

“That show was on a long time,” Puck adds. “But six years is a long time.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, still stroking Puck’s hair. “It’s gonna be okay. They’ll fix you up and you’ll be okay.” 

“Dr. Carter?” Puck asks hopefully. 

“I’m sorry I let you get so sick. I should’ve taken you to a doctor last night,” Finn says, in the same quiet voice. 

“One day isn’t a long time,” Puck says. 

“It is when you’re that sick. You’re really sick, and I’m really worried about you,” Finn says. “What’m I supposed to do if something happens to you?”

“Six years is a long time,” Puck repeats, closing his eyes again. 

Puck is pretty sure Finn says something after that, but he doesn’t understand it, and the next time he wakes up, he’s lying in a bed and his head doesn’t actually hurt. The room is dark, and Puck grimaces a little turning his head to look at Finn. 

“Finn?” Puck’s voice isn’t quite as hoarse as before, and the main thing Puck notices is that his throat doesn’t feel quite so much like it’s burning. 

“Puck?” Finn answers, sounding mostly asleep. “You awake?”

“I don’t talk in my sleep. I don’t think.” Puck lifts his head for a moment, noticing Finn’s in a chair, and then lets his head flop back down. “What’s… where are we?”

“Hey. We’re in a hospital in Greenville, South Carolina,” Finn says. He puts his hand on Puck’s forehead. “You’re a lot cooler now. That’s good.”

“Did I have the plague or something?” 

“I don’t know what you had,” Finn says. “Some kind of European flu or something, I think. You really scared me.”

“Let’s not go to college in Europe, then,” Puck says. “How long do we have to stay?”

“I don’t know. I think they’re letting us leave in the morning,” Finn says.

“I don’t think I like South Carolina,” Puck says, then tries to wiggle to the side. “Don’t sleep in the chair,” he says through a yawn.

“I’ve gotta sleep, dude. I don’t think you’re going to be up for driving in the morning.”

Puck rolls his eyes, but he’s not sure Finn can tell, since his eyes are mostly closed. “Bed’s wider than D.C.,” he says, finishing his wiggling and closing his eyes. 

“Well, I’ll move back to the chair if the nurse comes in and gets mad,” Finn says, lying down on the bed next to Puck. One of his arms drapes heavily across Puck’s stomach, and he touches his forehead to the side of Puck’s head. “I was really worried about you,” he says softly.

“Europeans can’t kill me,” Puck says. 

“Good thing,” Finn says. “Sleep.”

“Already on it,” Puck mumbles. 

 


	17. Florida

The hospital releases Puck the next morning, along with a bunch of prescriptions, and Puck still naps most of the day as Finn drives through South Carolina and a little bit of Georgia towards Jacksonsville. By the time they get close to Jacksonville, Puck wakes up enough to hold a conversation that isn’t about his throat or his head. 

“Construction management,” he says. “That’s unique at this place. Who would be good at construction management?”

“Sam?” Finn suggests.

“Yeah.” Puck laughs. “Or Tina. She could yell at the workers.” 

“Yeah, she’d be good at that,” Finn says. 

“Florida’s flat. I think I got used to it not being flat,” Puck says, looking around. “And hot.” 

Finn reaches out almost automatically to put his hand on Puck’s forehead. “Just checking,” he says after he lets his hand drop.

Puck grins. “No, just the weather this time. Hot, humid, and a pop-up thunderstorm over there,” he says, gesturing to their right. 

“I think I’ll run in and get the flier again,” Finn says. “You should stay in the truck.”

“Yeah, it’s already Friday afternoon anyway,” Puck says. “No need to linger or whatever.” 

“You gonna be okay while I run in?”

“I’ll figure out where we’re going next,” Puck says. “And maybe mug a few people. I’ll be fine.” 

“Drink more water or Gatorade, okay?” Finn says. “I don’t want to have to take you back for more IV fluids.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Puck says, picking up one of the bottles of Gatorade and waving it in Finn’s direction. “Go.” 

Finn goes in, but Puck doesn’t even finish the Gatorade before Finn’s back, taking maybe three minutes total and clutching a few fliers. 

“That was fast,” Puck says. 

“I got what I needed,” Finn says evasively.

“We still need a bag or something,” Puck says. “So we’re going to go across I–10 and then up I–75 to Atlanta. I was thinking Georgia State, but there’s this school with a big Shakespeare thing. We should pick up stuff for Rachel and Kurt and maybe even, I don’t know. Mercedes?” Puck frowns. “What kind of college does Mercedes need to go to?”

“I don’t know. We’ll look for one for her,” Finn says. “Oh, and I’ve gotta call Mom when we stop again. I promised I’d check in.”

“Still not dead from the Europeans,” Puck says. “I want to try this chicken place down here.” 

“Okay, you can get chicken, but you have to finish that bottle of Gatorade first.”

“I will, I will. You weren’t even gone for five minutes,” Puck says. “I think we should save Kentucky and West Virginia until the end of the summer. In case your mom tries to pull some kind of ‘you’re so close, just come back now’ thing.” 

“Yeah, good idea,” Finn says. “Drink.”

“I am, I am,” Puck says, drinking the rest of the Gatorade in one large gulp. “Happy?”

“Yep,” Finn says. 

“You’re going to make me drink another one before we stop to eat, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, I am,” Finn says. “Because you almost died and I don’t want you to almost die again, okay?”

“I’m not going to die,” Puck says. “I have too much shit to do. Not even from, like, South American flu or something.” 

“I think they said it was from, I don’t know. Albania?”

“The Albanians almost killed me,” Puck says, snorting. “Did I really almost die?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Finn says. “You were really dehydrated. That and the fever.”

“I’m probably immune to weird flus now though,” Puck says. “So that’s good, right?” 

“I don’t know. I guess.” Finn’s hand tightens on the steering wheel as he starts the truck.

“And you must be immune,” Puck adds. “You’re not sick. Right?” 

“Right,” Finn says. “Which way to get to the highway?”

“Just stay on University of North Florida Drive,” Puck says. “Then south so we can cut over to I–95 again to I–10.” 

“Cool. Thanks.”

Finn isn’t very talkative while they get out of Jacksonville, and they’re probably halfway to the junction with I–75 when Puck’s curiosity gets the better of him. “Did we talk about a pet bat?”

“Yeah,” Finn says. “You were really worried about your bat.” He laughs faintly, almost like he thinks he _should_ laugh about it than because he thinks it’s actually funny.

“Maybe my subconscious thinks I need a pet,” Puck says. “I don’t think I really want a bat, though. A snake, either.” 

“Probably not a good idea,” Finn agrees.

“Gerbil?” Puck says. “Or a hamster?”

“Sure,” Finn says.

“Can’t have a cat with a hamster, though,” Puck says. “Which are the bigger ones? Are those guinea pigs?” 

“Yeah, guinea pigs,” Finn says. “Those are the big ones.”

“Do you like those?” 

“Sure.”

“You want one?”

“I guess I never really thought about guinea pigs too much,” Finn says.

“Do you like cats better?” Puck asks. 

“Sure.”

Puck shakes his head. “Wake me up if you get any strong feelings about pets, okay? Or when we get to the chicken place.” 

“Okay. Get some sleep, alright?” Finn says.

“Yeah,” Puck says, closing his eyes. Maybe Finn’ll be more talkative when Puck wakes up.


	18. Georgia

Puck and Finn make it all the way to Cordele before Puck sees a truck stop that looks like a good place to shower, eat, and sleep for a few hours. After dinner, he’s managed to stay awake, but sleeping for the night sounds like a good plan. When he steps out of the truck, he feels a little lighter on his feet than he expects. 

“You okay, Puck?” Finn asks.

“Yeah, it’s probably time for more of those pills,” Puck says, walking slowly so Finn doesn’t fuss too much. 

“Yeah, here, I’ve already got them for you,” Finn says, digging into his pocket. He hands the pills to Puck, along with a new Gatorade. “Drink the whole thing.”

“You should have stayed in Boy Scouts,” Puck says before popping the pills in his mouth and swallowing a good third of the Gatorade bottle. “Always prepared or whatever.” 

“Nah. Wasn’t any fun without you.”

“You know, that was an accident. I may have emptied the fire extinguishers on purpose a few years ago, but I really didn’t mean to pull the fire alarm during the Bear Cub ceremony.” 

“Yeah, you totally did,” Finn says. “That’s okay, though. It was boring, anyway.”

“Well, yeah, that’s why I wanted to see how far I could pull the alarm without it actually going off,” Puck explains as they finally reach the door. “Showers available now.”

“Cool. See? It’s a good stop.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees, paying for two showers and heading towards the shower room once the worker tells them which showers to go to. Puck strips and turns on the hot water, and it takes about thirty seconds before Puck realizes him and the hot water are probably a bad combination. He waits another thirty or so seconds before calling out. 

“Hey, Finn?” 

“Yeah?”

“Maybe a hot shower was a bad idea,” Puck admits, leaning against one wall. 

“You okay?” Finn asks, popping his head out of his own shower. 

“Not… really?” 

“Do you need help?”

“Probably,” Puck says with a sigh. 

“Okay,” Finn says. “Uh. You want me to put my shorts on first or something.”

“I’m just going to sit down,” Puck says. “It’s whatever.” He feels like there’s no good answer: if he’s too gung-ho about the shorts, that seems weird, but if he’s too gung-ho the other way, that seems weird too.

“Okay.” 

Puck slides down the wall, then looks up as Finn walks in, and Puck thinks maybe he should have been more gung-ho about the shorts, but he’s still sick enough that he at least doesn’t pop a boner. 

“You want me to prop you up so you can rinse off, at least?” Finn asks, looking down at Puck with a concerned face.

“Yeah, and then I want to go back to bed,” Puck says, letting Finn haul him to his feet and propel him under the spray. He’s aware enough to appreciate that he’s being held by naked Finn, and Finn’s supporting most of Puck’s weight, which is pretty impressive upper body strength, Puck figures. 

“Better?” Finn asks, after he’s held Puck under the water for a couple of minutes.

“Yeah. I think I’m rinsed,” Puck says. “You think they’ll care if I walk back through without a shirt?” 

“I think if they have a problem with it, they can take it up with me,” Finn says. “Need help with the towel?”

“I think I’ll be okay once the water’s off,” Puck says, stepping a little bit away from the spray. 

“Cool. I’ll just finish up in here, then, ’cause I’ve got shampoo in my hair,” Finn says.

Puck laughs, because he hadn’t even noticed, and by the time Finn finishes in the shower, Puck has managed to towel off, pull on shorts, and shove his feet into his flip-flops. Once Finn is dressed, they head out to the truck and sleep for several hours. Puck doesn’t wake up until the sun is out, and he yawns a little as he stretches. 

His stretch is slightly aborted by the Finn-arm draped across his upper chest. “Dude,” Puck says softly.

“Huh? You okay?” Finn mumbles. 

“I can’t move. Your arm is heavy, and I want some waffles.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” Finn’s arm moves off Puck’s chest. “I guess I fell asleep checking your temperature a some point in the night.”

“The Albanians haven’t gotten me yet,” Puck says. “We should send Albania a letter.” 

“A hate letter,” Finn says. “Fucking Albanians.”

“I was thinking some kind of request,” Puck says. “A request to keep their flu at home and not send it overseas.” 

“Both.”

Puck laughs, and they do go get waffles before heading north towards Atlanta again. Puck naps until Macon, then looks over at Finn, curious again. “Did we have a conversation about six years, or did I dream that, too?” 

“We talked about a lot of stuff,” Finn says. “You were out of your head.”

“Yeah, well, I figured that part out,” Puck says. “The six years thing, though, that’s true. It is a long time.” 

“Well, yeah, six years is a long time,” Finn says.

“It’s a long time to be in love with someone,” Puck says. “Or at least it is when we’re seventeen. I guess it’s not to people our moms’ age.” 

“Yeah, I guess not to my m— oh. Six years?”

“Yeah, six years,” Puck says, nodding a little. “A little over.” 

“Wow,” Finn says.

Puck shrugs. “It kind of… settles on you, I guess. You get older, you’re in a different grade, whatever, but that’s still the same.”

“And you never told them?”

“It didn’t seem right, at first, and then…” Puck trails off. “Then it seemed like it didn’t matter, because of the whole guy thing. And then I just got mad.” 

Finn nods. “So you’re just never gonna say anything?”

“I don’t know,” Puck says honestly, and that’s not the answer he always would have given, but it is the answer that he can give now. “I mean, there’s still the whole fact that it’s a guy thing, right? And obviously I’m not going to say something at a time he’s with someone else.” The talking around it, saying ‘he’ instead of ‘you’, is weird, Puck decides. 

“Yeah. I guess that makes sense,” Finn says. Finn has an odd look on his face as he keeps driving, and the silence that falls is an equally weird one, but Puck feels weird too, so maybe Finn is picking up on that. 

Atlanta has its baseball stadium right beside the freeway, and they get off soon after that for the first school, Georgia State. “So they have a major in respiratory therapy here,” Puck says. 

“So… I could get a degree in _breathing_?” Finn asks.

“Helping other people breathe, maybe?” Puck says. “Maybe you count for them.” 

“Weird. A whole degree in telling people when to hold their breath?”

“Yeah, I guess. The parking sucks here, though.”

“Yeah, and this interstate is huge,” Finn says. “I bet people get lost.”

“Yeah, maybe there’s a problem with lost Georgia State students. Oh, there’s a degree in ‘birth through five’ too.” 

“Cool. I like little kids,” Finn says. “I don’t know if I like this city, though.”

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Puck says. “It’s sort of like New York or D.C., but sort of not.” 

“Yeah.”

“You want me to go in so you don’t have to find a place to park?” Puck says. “Then we can check out the Shakespeare place.” 

“You up for that?” Finn asks, narrowing his eyes a little. 

“I’m not going to run and then faint,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Just drop me off right in front of the door.” 

“Okay. Call me if you need help, though, you got it?”

“Yeah, okay, _Mom_ ,” Puck says with a grin, unlocking his door as Finn slows down. 

“I’m allowed to worry,” Finn says. “I’m the one who had to carry you into the hospital, dude.”

“And I’m the one that rubs on the after-sun. Fair’s fair,” Puck says, still grinning as he climbs out and heads inside to get the fliers. He’s not sure anyone they know would be good at breathing coaching or little kids, but they might throw it in as a third choice for Santana or Mercedes or somebody. Fliers in hand, Puck heads back out just as Finn circles the block again. He climbs back in the truck and gives Finn a thumbs up as he buckles. 

“Anything good?” Finn asks.

“Maybe a third choice for Santana or Mercedes?” Puck says. “Not for us, though. Now we’re going to the other place. They said we’d pass a lot of restaurants on the way.” 

“Cool. We’ll find a place to eat,” Finn says.

“Yeah, and maybe we should find a movie theater. Catch a movie while it’s super-hot out, and then drive a little longer tonight,” Puck says. 

“Cool, yeah.”

“I figure we can tell most of the girls about this Shakespeare place,” Puck says. “We’re doing good on everyone else. Except Artie and Mike.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know where to look for dancing schools,” Finn says. “Or schools for whatever it is Artie likes to do.”

“Maybe Mike liked New York City better than we did,” Puck says. “I think there are dancing colleges there. And I guess we just should keep looking for Artie. Something’ll come to us. We’re too good at this.” 

They find a decent place to eat, pick up some information at the college with the Shakespeare program, then watch a movie before driving out I–20 towards Alabama. They talk about stopping at a truck stop, or maybe driving on, and Puck finally shrugs. 

“Up to you,” he says. “Either way, I’m going to nap.”


	19. Alabama

Despite the Crimson Tide agreement, they stop at the University of Alabama anyway, agreeing after a brief visit that Quinn would be very popular there and that Mercedes might enjoy it. There’s still a lot of tornado damage everywhere in the city, which is pretty weird, but they still have a late lunch before driving on towards Mississippi. There’s no state parks along I–20, though, which means they have to figure out somewhere else to sleep. They get off at Eutaw, following a green marking on the map, but when they get to it, it turns out to be a cemetery. They go just a little further until Puck sees the high school on the right, and they park around the back, near what might be the football stadium or could just be a practice field. 

It’s overcast enough that they decide to just sleep in the cab, and Puck falls asleep pretty quickly, probably because of the Albanian flu. When he wakes up, he doesn’t feel rested, there’s a light shining into the cab, and someone tapping on Finn’s window. 

“What?” Puck mumbles. “Finn? What’s going on?” 

“I think it’s a cop,” Finn says, starting to roll down his window. “Hey,” he says to the person outside the window.

“You kids need to—” the man outside the window starts to say, and then the light abruptly leaves. “Are you boys sleeping out here?” 

“Yes sir,” Finn says. “We didn’t want to keep driving into Mississippi tonight. He’s still getting over the Albanian flu.”

“I hadn’t heard about that one yet,” the man says. “I’m Sheriff Lincoln, and I thought you were a couple of kids out here making out. You really shouldn’t sleep here all night, though. Wait here a second.” He pats the door twice as he walks away, back to what Puck now realizes is his sheriff-car. 

“Is he going to write us a ticket?” Puck whispers. “Illegal sleeping?” 

“I don’t know!” Finn whispers back. “Act cool! Make sure you say ‘sir’ if he asks you any questions!”

“Yes, sir,” Puck says jokingly. “You sure you don’t want to be a cop? People’d be really polite to you.” 

“I don’t think I’d be very good at arresting people,” Finn says. 

“Oh, yeah. You’d probably feel bad about arresting them,” Puck says, nodding a little as the sheriff returns. 

“I just talked to my wife Ann, and she’s got a late dinner cooking for me when I get off shift in about an hour. Why don’t you two boys head on over there, have some food, and then you can share the sofa bed in the living room?” 

“That’s really nice of you, sir,” Finn says. “You’re sure your wife doesn’t mind us?”

“I just talked to her. Our twin boys are home from college for the summer, too. I’m sure all of y’all can find something to talk about,” the sheriff says. 

“Another night on a mattress would be nice,” Puck admits, nodding at the sheriff. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, thanks a lot, we really appreciate it,” Finn says. 

“It’s not far,” the sheriff says, and he hands Finn a piece of paper with, Puck assumes, directions written on it. He says something about driving safe and slow, and then heads off once Finn starts the truck. 

Once they get to the Sheriff Lincoln house, Ann Lincoln does invite them in, feed them, and introduce them to her twin sons. One of them goes to the University of Alabama, and the other one goes to Auburn, which makes Puck think that Saturdays in the fall are probably pretty interesting. The sheriff gets home after a little longer, eating his own dinner and then pulling out the sofa bed for them. 

“You think we can find an awesome sheriff in every town?” Puck whispers as he lies down on the sofa bed. 

“Probably not,” Finn whispers back. “I think the cops in Lima would just have arrested us and called our moms.”

“That’s another reason it’s good we’re not in Lima,” Puck says. “Too bad about the mascot name, the people are nice here at least.” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees, settling back against the sofa bed’s thin pillows. 

Puck closes his eyes, realizing that part of why he feels so comfortable is the sheets smell like the same detergent that Carole uses, and he can smell Finn beside him, too. “’Night,” he says very softly. 

“Night, Puck,” Finn says.

Puck wakes up in what he’s sure is the middle of the night being the little spoon. Finn’s curled up behind him, and Puck knows he should move or roll Finn over or something, but he doesn’t. He sighs, lets himself relax, and closes his eyes again, going back to sleep with the two of them still spooning. 

The next time Puck wakes up, he can tell it’s light outside, and Finn is whispering in his ear. Well, whisper- _singing_ in his ear.

“ _If you like piña coladas_ ,” Finn sings quietly. 

Puck snorts, holding back a laugh. “Not for breakfast,” he says, realizing that he can’t really turn over because Finn is still more or less spooning him. 

“ _And getting caught in the rain_ ,” Finn continues, a little louder.

“Good morning, Finn,” Puck says, twisting just enough to look at Finn and then realizing that he’s very very close to Finn’s face. There are worse ways to start a Monday, Puck knows. 

“Sleep okay?” Finn asks. 

“Yeah, slept pretty good,” Puck says. “Sofa bed feels like a real bed now.” 

“Better than the truck, huh?”

“As much as I hesitate to diss your truck, yeah,” Puck says, grinning. 

“Truck’s better than the hospital, though,” Finn says. 

“Almost anything’s better than the hospital,” Puck says. “You want first shower?” 

“We’re taking turns now?” Finn jokes, but he rolls slowly away from Puck. “You go first. Brush your teeth while you’re in there, dude.”

Puck rolls his eyes and flips Finn off with a grin as he walks down the hall to the bathroom, tiptoeing past the bedrooms, since he doesn’t hear anyone else moving around. He doesn’t take long in the shower, just enough to feel clean, and he does brush his teeth before putting on clean clothes and heading back to the living room. 

“Your turn,” Puck says. “There’s even real bath towels.” 

“Awesome,” Finn says. “I’ll be out in a little while.”

Finn takes a longer shower than the new usual, which is still a pretty short shower. It’s long enough for Ann to wake up and come to the kitchen, showing them where the cereal and instant oatmeal are. Puck offers to pay her, and then Finn does, but she refuses both of them, and after they finish breakfast, she tells them to be careful and they get back on I–20, passing back by the high school and cemetery on the way out of town.


	20. Mississippi

Two colleges in Jackson, since they’re there, means a new possibility for Mercedes and finally one for Artie. “I still don’t know if Artie’ll like this place,” Puck admits as they head north. “But it’s something. I don’t know if I like Mississippi as well as Alabama.” 

“Me either,” Finn says. “And the roads are in terrible shape here. Truck’s running a little rough.”

“We’ll barely be in Tennessee. We can take it slower if we need to,” Puck says, then frowns. “Is that your phone?” 

“Yeah. You want to grab it for me and answer it?” Finn asks.

“Sure,” Puck says, then grimaces when he looks at it. “Uh, are _you_ sure?” he asks. “It’s Rachel. Maybe I should put it on speaker?” 

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Finn says.

“Okay.” Puck takes a deep breath, which he hopes Finn doesn’t notice, and answers the phone immediately putting it on speaker before nudging Finn. 

“Hey, Rachel,” Finn says loudly. “What’s up?”

“Finn! Kurt said you were on some kind of cross-country roadtrip? And that Noah had been in the _hospital_?” Rachel says, all in a rush. 

“Uh. Yeah and yeah,” Finn says.

“Oh my, I had no idea. Where are you now? Is Noah doing okay now?” 

“Yeah, he’s a lot better. Say hi, Puck.”

“Hey, Rachel,” Puck says. “We’re in Mississippi.” 

“Mississippi!” Rachel repeats, sounding somewhat astounded. “Well, that’s certainly not Lima. What exactly are the two of you doing, Finn? Just trying to visit every state?” 

“We’re looking at colleges. It’s a college tour,” Finn says.

“Oh.” Rachel sounds surprised this time, and Puck frowns a little. “Just random colleges? In every single state?” 

“We’re finding colleges for everyone else, too,” Puck says. “Right, Finn?”

“Yeah! Even for you and Kurt,” Finn says. “But mostly for us. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Well, that’s awfully nice of the two of you,” Rachel says slowly. “I don’t think hardly anyone knows that you’re out of town.” 

“It was kind of spur of the moment, a little bit,” Finn says.

“We had an entire… month,” Puck says, grinning at Finn. “Before we left. No one else would’ve fit in the truck, though.” 

“Oh, yes, that’s true,” Rachel says, sounding more like her normal self. “Do you have UCLA on your list? I know they have show choir scholarships!” 

“Uh. You know, I don’t know. I guess we do need to figure out where in Louisiana we’re stopping,” Finn says. “Puck’ll look up the schools, probably. We’re having a lot of fun, other than the Albanian flu. That part sucked.”

“Yeah, it did, even if I don’t remember all of it,” Puck says. “You can tell people where we are if they ask, Rachel. And we’ll think about UCLA.” 

“Take lots of pictures!” Rachel demands. “And Finn, do drive carefully.” 

“I will. Nice talking to you, Rachel. I hope you’re having a good summer,” Finn says.

“I am, thank you. Good-bye, Noah. Bye, Finn!” With that, the call ends, and Puck puts Finn’s phone down on the seat between them. 

“She just now noticed we were gone?” Puck says. “Or Kurt just now noticed you were gone?”

“I don’t know,” Finn says, shrugging. 

“Do you think they really give out show choir scholarships at UCLA? Or anywhere, for that matter? And…” Puck trails off. “What’re you thinking? About Rachel, I mean.” 

Finn shrugs again. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “It feels like it _should_ still hurt, but it doesn’t, you know? Like, I think maybe she was right.”

Puck nods, because he told Finn that, back in May, which makes Rachel _and_ Puck right. “Well, that’s good, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it is,” Finn says. 

“Awesome. Let’s get some ice cream on the way to Memphis,” Puck says. “Do you like earthquakes or Ancient Egypt?”

“Uh. No and yes? And yes to the ice cream.”

“I didn’t actually have to ask about the ice cream,” Puck points out. “The University of Memphis has a big earthquake research thing, and one of the only places that does a big Ancient Egypt thing. Oh, and Graceland. Graceland’s outside of Memphis.” 

“Can we go to college at Graceland?”

Puck grins. “Now we’re back to rock ‘n’ roll, right? We should at least tour Graceland. Who knows when we’ll have another chance, right?” 

“Exactly,” Finn says. 

 


	21. Tennessee

“Do we even know what Audiology is?” Puck asks. “They have that, too. Take a right.” 

“Maybe like a radio thing?” Finn guesses. 

“It’s in with ‘speech-language pathology’,” Puck says, looking at the book. “I think we can park on the left.”

“What’s that? Is it like the breathing thing, do you think?” Finn asks, pulling into a space in the parking area on the left. 

“I think pathology is something bad, but they don’t teach people to do things wrong, right?” Puck says. “So… yeah. Teaching people to teach people to talk? Maybe?”

“Cool,” Finn says. “Like adult people or kids, do you think?”

“Probably kids,” Puck says after a moment. “Like remember that kid in kindergarten who said things weird? By third grade, he didn’t. Somebody must’ve taught him.” 

“Yeah, makes sense.”

“Do you think you want to major in Ancient Egypt?” Puck asks. 

“Probably not. I don’t really want a mummy’s curse,” Finn says.

“We can still get a brochure. Doesn’t Artie like Egypt?”

“Oh yeah, I think so,” Finn says. “Good call.”

“Finally something for Artie,” Puck says. “And he likes jazz, too. We’re really good at this!”

“Yeah, we are!”

“Back to a state park tonight, though,” Puck says. “Unless you get tired of driving.” 

“Let’s see how far we can make it, I guess,” Finn says. “Can we eat some barbecue now?”

“Let’s just grab the fliers, and then, I sure hope so,” Puck says. “I feel like that’s all we’ve been smelling since we hit the state line.”


	22. Arkansas

Finn and Puck make it to their exit for the state park, but before they drive out to the state park, they end up at the Old Sawmill Cafe, and Puck nods a little to himself. 

“I think we should get some beer with dinner,” Puck says. 

“Yeah? Who’s buying it?” Finn asks.

“I am. Or at least I’m going to try to,” Puck says. “Why not? It looks like the kind of place we might be able to get beer.”

“Okay. Should be fun, if we can manage it,” Finn says. 

“We can always make it to the state park later,” Puck says, climbing out of the truck and heading into the cafe, where he picks a dark-ish looking table. The server doesn’t really look at his license at all, not even enough to notice it’s from Ohio and not Arkansas, and when she brings them a plate of cornbread, she brings two beers, too. 

Puck picks up his bottle of beer and grins at Finn. “Cheers.” 

“Yeah, cheers,” Finn says, clinking his bottle to Puck’s.

Puck drinks more of the beer in his first gulp than he intends, but he takes another long gulp before picking up one of the pieces of cornbread. “Want me to tell her to just keep ’em coming?” Puck asks. 

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Finn says. “We can always sleep in the truck outside if we have to.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Puck says, and that’s what he does, telling the server when she brings their food to bring them new beers as soon as they finish their current ones. Around the fourth or fifth beer, Puck thinks that maybe this was a bad idea, but then their server brings him yet another beer, he drinks it, and he changes his mind: everything is fine again. 

They’re probably a little loud, but no one seems to mind, and after their food is completely gone, they move over to the bar part of the cafe to keep drinking. “Do you think we’re drunk?” Puck asks Finn, speaking slowly and carefully. 

“Nope,” Finn says, with a wide, dopey-looking smile. “I’m totally not drunk.”

“Then we should have more beer!” Puck says, grinning back at Finn. 

“Yeah, more beer is, like, _awesome_.”

“More beer is more awesome,” Puck agrees, slinging his arm around Finn’s shoulders and gesturing for more beer with his other hand. “This is a great night.” 

“This is a great summer,” Finn says. “This summer is the best summer. I never had a better summer before this one, ’cause it’s just, it’s the _best_ one. _You’re_ the best.”

“I’m great,” Puck agrees. “Everything is great. You and me, we’re great.” 

“Yeah. We are. We’re great,” Finn says, with a slow nod of his head. “You’re really great, Puck. I’m glad you’re not sick anymore. You were so sick. It was so bad.”

“The Albanians will never get me,” Puck says in what he intends to be a whisper, taking a long drink of his new beer. “We’re so great. That’s why I can’t go anywhere else,” he says, even though a small part of his brain thinks he should collapse and sleep, or at least stop talking. The rest of his brain wants to keep talking and drinking. 

“I know!” Finn says, the nodding continuing. “That’s why you gotta go where I go. Or I gotta go where you go. Or we just should go in the same place, okay?”

“Exactly. One of these states, it’s going to be perfect for us,” Puck says. “You, me, and that state. Like… banana splits.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, just like that!” Finn agrees. 

“The perfect state is like the perfect banana,” Puck says expansively. “All these other states are too green or too soft or too small or too big. Or are those… other things. Plantains.” 

“Yeah. Those bananas suck,” Finn says. “They’re the worst.”

“They’re just not good bananas,” Puck says sadly, and this time, the server brings two glasses of water instead of new beers. “I think we’re out of beer.” 

“Oh no!” Finn says. 

“Let’s just go to the truck, then,” Puck says, putting down what he thinks is the right amount of cash to cover their food and beer, and he leaves his arm around Finn’s shoulders as they walk out to the truck. They both stagger a little, and Finn puts his arm around Puck’s waist, holding him upright as they reach the truck.

“Did you drink as much as me?” Finn asks, as they both climb up into the truck.

“I’m smaller than you. Yeah.” 

“Yeah. So you’re more drunker than me,” Finn says.

“I’m the drunkest,” Puck agrees, closing his door and leaning his head against the window glass.

“Yeah, you’re so drunk, Puck!” Finn says. He pats Puck on the leg, then leaves his hand there. “Hey, Puck?”

“Yeah?” 

“Is it me?” Finn asks.

Puck pats Finn’s hand, then puts both hand over Finn’s, and the less-drunk part of Puck’s brain yells at the rest of Puck’s brain for a long enough moment that all of Puck’s brain realizes that silence is probably an answer. 

“It’s always you,” Puck finally says, his head still pressed against the window. 

“How come you never said?”

Puck frowns, waiting on the rest of the sentence, wondering what he never said, and then he falls asleep, forehead still pressed against the glass.

It’s barely light when Puck and Finn wake up, heads aching, and they don’t say much of anything as they get coffee and pancakes, then to-go coffee, and start back on the interstate, heading towards Hendrix. They get the fliers, agree that they should mention the school to Mercedes and Tina and maybe even Brittany, and then start heading south, towards the northern edge of Louisiana. US–425 isn’t much of a road, and Finn keeps looking over at Puck almost wistfully, when they aren’t trying to avoid speeding 18-wheelers. Puck knows Finn’s got to have figured it out, even without Puck’s answer the night before, but Puck doesn’t know what to say next, so they drive south without talking about it, just the occasional look.


	23. Louisiana

The northern part of Louisiana doesn’t look all that different from southern Arkansas, and the same silence in the truck carries over, right up until the time Puck spots the sign for the Georgia Pacific Wildlife Management Area, and he laughs.

“I would have sworn that wildlife management was done by the government, not companies,” he says. “That’s weird.” 

“Guess they do it different in Louisiana,” Finn says.

“Maybe it’s sponsored, like the baseball and football stadiums,” Puck guesses, falling silent again until they’re closer to Monroe. “Hey, you can study old people at this college. That speech thing again, and… weird. Toxicology.” 

“How drunk somebody is?” Finn asks. “That’s a weird major.”

“Yep. I don’t think I want to do that major,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Does anyone like old people?” 

“Brittany,” Finn says. 

“Well, we can tell her about it. You know who might like toxicology? Artie. I bet it talks about poisons, too. He seems like he’d like poisons.” 

“Yeah, probably so,” Finn says.

“We should find some local restaurant here or in Shreveport,” Puck says. “I want to try the shrimp and grits thing. Or maybe gumbo.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Finn says, looking over and giving Puck the same strangely wistful look again. 

When they stop at the university and open the doors, Puck makes a face. “It smells like… cabbage.” 

“Oh. Oh, dude. That’s _nasty_ ,” Finn says. “Why’s it smell like that?”

“I didn’t think cajun food had cabbage in it!” Puck says, shaking his head. “We won’t tell anyone how it smells?”

“I don’t want to go to college in stink-town,” Finn says.

“No, me either,” Puck says. “Maybe we should skip the flier, even.” 

“Yeah. Let’s just get back in the truck and find some food,” Finn says.

“In Shreveport,” Puck says, shaking his head as he closes the door and makes sure the window is rolled all the way up. “I don’t even mind if we get a little warm. Just get us out of cabbage-land.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monroe, Louisiana, smells bad because of the paper mills.


	24. Texas

Even though the southern states are bigger than the northeast, Puck feels like Texas’s size is still something of a surprise. It takes awhile to get to Dallas, and then they head south towards Austin. “I like the motto of Austin,” he says to Finn as they drive on I–35. “Keep Austin Weird.”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Finn says. “We should get some t-shirts.”

“Yeah, then we can skip laundry at least one more day,” Puck says with a grin. “That’s a big win.” 

“Yeah it is,” Finn agrees.

“It’ll be pretty late by the time we hit Austin,” Puck says. “Want me to find a hostel like in D.C.?”

“Sounds good. Probably can’t afford a real hotel,” Finn says. “Do they even let people our age get hotel rooms?”

“Probably at the places where you pay cash and breakfast is _not_ included,” Puck says, looking at the list of hostels he has called up on Finn’s phone. “I like Texas so far. Except for the Cowboys.” 

“Nobody likes the Cowboys but people from Texas,” Finn says.

“What if we move to Texas?” Puck says suspiciously. “Do you think it’s like with the Steelers? They make you buy a Cowboys jersey?” 

“Oh, yeah, maybe so,” Finn says. “We’ll have to keep a low profile so they can’t catch us. I bet they don’t make the college students buy one. Just the people who’re staying.”

“Let’s hope so.” Puck frowns at the hostel listing. “This one says it’s near music and restaurants. That sounds good, right?”

“Yeah. That’s awesome. We should listen to some music while we’re here,” Finn says.

“Back to rock ‘n’ roll college,” Puck says with a grin. “We’re going to get off I–35 before the river, then cross the river. Oh, but we’re about to pass University of Texas over to our right.” 

“We’ll go ahead and stop there, then,” Finn says. “Or do you think they’re closed? Maybe they’re closed for the night.”

“I think they’re probably closed. Oh, hey, it’s pretty though,” Puck says. “Almost as nice as William & Mary.” 

“Yeah, I like it. It feels, I dunno. Homey.”

“Yeah, and it’s consistent-looking,” Puck says, nodding as they keep driving past the campus. “If I were religious, I could major in Jewish Studies here.” 

“Maybe you could study to become more Jewish,” Finn says.

“But then I’d have to stop eating shrimp and grits, and those were pretty good,” Puck says. “Here’s the exit.” 

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to stop eating the shrimp,” Finn agrees, exiting where Puck indicated.

“We’re going the same way as the bike trail,” Puck says. “That’s cool, too. Okay so…” Puck looks around and then laughs. “Across from ‘Fishey Bizness Seafood’.” 

“Nice. We haven’t had seafood in a while, other than the shrimp,” Finn says. “You think they have some kind of special Texas fish?”

“I guess whatever’s in the Gulf, right?” Puck says. “The parking lot’s kind of full. At the hostel, I mean.” 

“Hope there’s a bunk left,” Finn says.

“Yeah. You’d think they’d put a sign on the door or something,” Puck says as they park. “It’s not _dark_ yet or anything.” 

“Yeah. Maybe Austin’s just really popular.”

“We are next to a river,” Puck says. “People like rivers, I guess.” He grabs his bag and heads for the door, Finn beside him, but when they get to the front desk attendant, they find out the hostel is sort-of out of beds. Puck nods and turns around, looking at Finn. “Six more each, private bedroom,” he says. “What do you think?” 

“Worth it to not sleep in the truck tonight,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Puck says, nodding again before turning to the attendant and paying him. “Want to dump our stuff and then go grab dinner?” 

“Yeah, sounds good to me. Fish time!”

The bed is just a double bed, but it’s bigger than the dorm-bed in D.C., and after their bags are in the room, they walk across the street and end up ordering po-boys. Puck is pretty sure Finn gives him that same look from the truck at least once or twice, and after they finish, Puck gestures to the park behind the hostel. 

“Sit outside or try to get some sleep?”

“Either way,” Finn says, shrugging.

“Tired?” Puck asks. “Or I guess we could check out the common area, but…” Puck trails off, not really sure how to put into words that he doesn’t really feel like meeting new people. 

“Yeah. I think I’m good with it just being me and you,” Finn says. “We can meet Texas people tomorrow or something.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Puck says, and when they get close to the hostel, he detours behind it, walking towards a mostly-empty pier and sitting on the side of it. “Wonder which river this is.” 

“What’s the big one, the Rio Grande?” Finn asks. 

“Yeah. This one doesn’t look big enough to be it, does it?” Puck says. “Maybe it’s the Austin River.” 

“Texas River,” Finn counters. “Rio Texas.”

“Guess we should have paid more attention in Spanish class if we like Texas,” Puck says, and he realizes suddenly that he and Finn are sitting very close. Probably too close for two good friends, but if Finn isn’t moving, Puck isn’t going to. 

“We still have senior year,” Finn says.

“It’d help if he taught more conversational Spanish,” Puck says. “I don’t think people care if you know the gender of the noun, just if you know what it means and you say it right.” 

“Maybe we could get one of those language-learning CDs.”

“Maybe so,” Puck agrees, noticing that Finn has the look again. “What’s that mean?” 

“What?”

“That look.” 

“I’m thinking,” Finn says. “I’ve been thinking all day.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says.

“Figure anything out?” Puck asks. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Finn says. 

“Well, that’s good, I guess,” Puck says. “What’d you figure out?” 

“This,” Finn says, then leans in and presses his lips to Puck’s. Puck almost startles, then kisses Finn back, one of his hands gripping the side of the pier and the other one coming up more or less involuntarily and landing on Finn’s shoulder. Finn pulls back after a few beats, but then he leans in again, kissing Puck a little harder this time, lips slightly parted. 

Puck slides his hand up from Finn’s shoulder to the back of Finn’s neck, resting it there, and he opens his lips under Finn’s. He forces himself to let go of the pier, his body turning towards Finn’s, and what restraint he’d managed to hold onto leaves as he kisses Finn harder. Finn wraps one arm loosely around Puck, his other hand coming to rest on the side of Puck’s head as they keep kissing. 

Puck doesn’t stop for as long as he can manage, and he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice when he pulls away a little, eyes still closed. “Finn.” 

“Yeah?” Finn answers. “I was right.”

“Yeah. Yeah?” Puck says. 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “The dude thing doesn’t matter.”

Puck can’t help laughing a little, opening his eyes. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “That’s what I was thinking about all day. Could I be with a dude? But that’s not really the important part.”

“So what’s the important part?” Puck asks. 

“You’re not just some dude. You’re Puck.” 

“True,” Puck says, grinning. “You should make sure, though.” 

“You’re sure you want me to?” Finn asks.

“Finn. Six. Years.” 

“Cool,” Finn says, bringing his lips back to Puck’s. Puck keeps grinning as they start kissing again, and the hand not on Finn’s neck moves to Finn’s waist. They kiss for a long time, not saying anything when they stop for a few seconds, until Puck notices it really is getting dark. 

“Back?” he says, looking over Finn’s shoulder in the vague direction of the hostel. 

“Yeah,” Finn says.

Puck pushes himself to his feet, offering Finn a hand, and he doesn’t let go of it as they start walking. “I like Texas,” Puck says smugly. 

“Yeah, me too,” Finn says. “I like it a lot.”

“Maybe the best so far, even,” Puck says, not really looking around the common area as they head towards their room, and when they get inside, Puck slides a chair in front of the door. “Nice they’re pretty full, I guess.” 

“Yeah, it worked out pretty good,” Finn says, smiling widely at Puck.

Puck pulls Finn towards the bed, sitting down near the edge of it, cross-legged. “I’ll make sure we leave them a five-star review,” he says. Finn sits down next to him, already leaning towards Puck to kiss him again. Puck puts both hands on Finn’s head, kissing him almost lazily as his lips part. 

Finn’s tongue flickers lightly against Puck’s lips, and Puck lets his mouth fall open, more than actively opening it, his fingers moving a little in Finn’s hair. Finn’s arms both wrap around Puck, holding him closer, and as they kiss, Finn makes soft sounds, barely audible. Puck can feel himself grinning still, despite the kiss deepening, and he runs one hand down Finn’s shoulder and upper arm, sliding his fingers under the edge of the sleeve of Finn’s t-shirt. 

Finn’s hands move along Puck’s back, one of them slipping under Puck’s t-shirt hem, fingers skating across Puck’s skin. Puck sighs into Finn’s mouth, his other hand resting on Finn’s neck with fingers spread wide, and he plays with Finn’s hair while his pinkie finger dips under the top of Finn’s t-shirt. Finn’s other hand slides under Puck’s shirt, too, both of his palms pressed against Puck’s lower back. 

“What do you want?” Puck whispers, his lips still almost touching Finn’s. 

“I don’t know,” Finn replies. “I didn’t think it through that far.”

Puck laughs. “Okay. Let’s lose the t-shirts, though?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, starting to tug Puck’s shirt up. Puck keeps grinning, lifting his arms so Finn can pull Puck’s t-shirt up and off. Once Puck’s shirt is sailing towards the floor, Puck reaches for the bottom of Finn’s shirt, taking it off Finn as quickly as Puck can, and then he drops it in the floor near Puck’s. 

“Yeah, that’s good,” Puck says, running his fingertips over Finn’s shoulders and upper chest. 

“Yeah?” Finn asks. He watches Puck’s fingers moving. 

“Yeah, it is.” Puck touches Finn with a little more pressure, moving his hands in circles and spirals, a little lower as he continues. “Feel good?” Finn nods, still watching Puck’s hands, putting his own hands on Puck’s waist. 

Puck spreads his fingers wide, touching his palms to Finn’s chest and running his fingertips deliberately over Finn’s nipples as he moves towards Finn’s lower torso. Finn rubs his thumbs along Puck’s sides, a faint smile on his face.

Finn’s skin is warm under Puck’s hands, and he presses more firmly against Finn, almost dragging his hands down and back up Finn’s chest. “Yeah, you feel good.” 

“You, too,” Finn says. “This is cool.”

“Yeah,” Puck says, grinning, and he kisses Finn again as he keeps moving his hands over Finn’s chest and shoulders, and then slowly down Finn’s back. Finn sighs quietly against Puck’s mouth. The two of them keep kissing and touching each other, until they slowly fall over, lying on the pillows, and Puck realizes that the room is almost completely dark, just a little light coming in the window from streetlights and under the door. He moves around a little until he’s comfortable, one of Finn’s arms underneath him and his head on Finn’s chest. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” Finn asks him.

“A lot of things,” Puck says. “Thinking about all the things I’ve thought about doing.” 

“Tell me some of them.”

“This is pretty close to one of them,” Puck says. “Most of them involve more nakedness. You want to hear those?” 

“Um. Yeah, actually,” Finn says, moving his head so his chin is resting on Puck’s head. 

“I didn’t think about anything but kissing for a couple of years, I guess. I had a brief obsession with giving you a hickey right in the middle of the back of your neck, but hey, you lucked out, because that is past,” Puck says, grinning a little to himself. “Blowjobs. I’ve thought a _lot_ about blowjobs. Me blowing you, you blowing me, both of us blowing each other at the same time, and that persistent one about blowing you during glee club and no one noticing. I think about fucking, too.” 

“Yeah?” Finn asks, his voice a little tight-sounding. “How? How would you want to?”

“How wouldn’t I want to is probably a shorter answer,” Puck says. “You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Finn admits. He runs one hand up and down Puck’s back. 

“Do you want to fuck me?” Puck asks softly. “Push deep into my ass, nice and slow?”

“Puck,” Finn says, his voice rougher now. “Maybe we should sleep.”

“I didn’t mean _tonight_ ,” Puck says, “but we can sleep.” 

“Maybe in Colorado,” Finn says. He wraps his arms more tightly around Puck and lets out a long, content-sounding sigh.

“Colorado, huh? Guess we need to figure out what’s next after Texas,” Puck says, letting his eyes start to close. “Night, Finn.” 

“Yeah. Night, Puck.”

Puck wakes up still wrapped in Finn’s arms, after enough sleep that Puck feels really rested to go along with the really happy feeling, and Puck doesn’t move for what feels like at least ten or fifteen minutes. Then he starts smelling burning toast, which reminds him that the hostel has breakfast included, so he probably should wake Finn up. 

“Finn,” Puck says quietly. “You want some breakfast?”

“What kind of breakfast?” Finn mumbles back.

“Hostel breakfast, I guess.” 

“No,” Finn says. “I want _piña coladas_ ,” he continues, suddenly singing loudly.

Puck laughs. “You’re such a dork.” 

“Yeah, but you like it.”

“Uh, yeah,” Puck says. “I think we established that.” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Finn says, laughing a little, too.

“Hostel breakfast has an advantage over your piña colada breakfast, though,” Puck says. 

“No hangover?”

“Well, maybe?” Puck says, shrugging a little. “I was thinking about the ‘free’ aspect.” 

“Free’s good, too,” Finn says.

“There’s no reason to stay here another night, I guess,” Puck says. “But we covered a lot of ground on Monday. And a lot yesterday.” 

Finn laughs again. “Yes. Definitely covered a lot of ground.”

“Still a dork,” Puck says, flicking at Finn’s chest lightly. “I’m just saying. You want to drive on today, or take our time?”

“I like Austin a lot,” Finn says. 

“Just the po-boys, right?” Puck asks with a grin. 

“Yeah, totally just the po-boys.”

Puck keeps grinning as he sits up, fishing in the floor for their shirts, and he tosses Finn’s to him. “That’s what I thought.” 

The hostel breakfast turns out to include bagels, which is what Puck had actually smelled burning, as well as some fruit, scrambled eggs, and what Puck is almost sure is turkey bacon, not real bacon. Still, it’s not the worst breakfast, and it’s free, and then Finn and Puck head towards the University of Texas. 

“I still think it looks good,” Puck says as they park. “And it has majors in a lot of stuff. Textiles, urban studies, and some geosystems thing that I bet is code for ‘finding oil’.” 

“I don’t know if I want to be an oil finder,” Finn says. “But I guess we could move to Hollywood if I found some.”

“Only if our burning ambition is to become real-life Beverly Hillbillies,” Puck says, shaking his head. “There’s a music business and music technology major, too.” 

“Cool.”

“And all the, you know, regular suspects. If I find a college that _doesn’t_ offer English, biology, and history, I’ll let you know,” Puck says with a snort. 

“Okay,” Finn says, slinging his arm over Puck’s shoulders as soon as Puck gets out of the car. “Want to go walk around?”

“Sure,” Puck says, grinning mostly to himself. “Let’s only tell us about this college.” 

“Yeah. I think this one is ours. Just ours,” Finn says.

“Maybe we just won’t tell them about Texas at all,” Puck says. “Maybe we can become Texans fans instead of Cowboys?”

“We’ll disappear to Texas and they’ll never hear from us again,” Finn says happily. 

Puck laughs. “Okay. Sounds like a good plan.”


	25. Oklahoma

Puck is pretty sure that the smartest thing they did was stay in Austin again on Wednesday night, because it makes Thursday morning’s long drive north to Oklahoma a little more tolerable. Oklahoma seems like a dead-end as far as college is concerned, with all the religious schools, but they’ll get a flier from the University of Oklahoma and then head west to Arizona. 

“All this driving, and we still cross back into Texas for awhile on the way to Arizona,” Puck says. “I don’t want to live in Oklahoma. Let’s find a reason to send someone annoying here.”

“Look up some of the majors,” Finn says. “We’ll sell it hard.”

“Interior design, landscape architecture, meteorology, musical theatre, and—”

“Ding ding ding!” Finn announces. “Musical theatre. We’ll send _everyone_ annoying here.”

Puck laughs. “McKinley extension?” 

“Yep.”

“Maybe they’ll get swept away in a tornado,” Puck says. “That’d be useful.”

“But not us,” Finn says. “We’ll be in Texas.”

“Exactly. That’s why it’s so useful,” Puck says. “There aren’t many parks in Oklahoma, either. We should just get off the interstate, grab a flier, and head out.” 

“Yeah. We might have to stop at a truck stop,” Finn says.

“Yeah. At least they have showers,” Puck says, nudging at Finn’s leg with his fingers. 

“Yeah. Don’t even need to pay for two of those, right?” Finn says, smiling and not quite looking over at Puck.

“Not unless we wanted to take an extra-long shower with a venue change in the middle,” Puck says. “But that’d be a little chilly.” 

“Yeah, no reason for that,” Finn says. 

“No reason to get chilly,” Puck agrees, still nudging at Finn’s leg. “Maybe a reason for extra-long showers, though.” 

“Oh yeah?” Finn asks. “Did you think about that, too?”

Puck grins, moving his hand onto the top of Finn’s leg. “Maybe,” he says. “Pretty good idea, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Finn says, smiling a little bigger.

“Guess I’ll be looking for a truck stop, then,” Puck says. “Arizona’s already looking better than the land of tornadoes and oil fields.” 

“Yeah. Not as good as Texas, though.”

“Nothing’s been as good as Texas.”


	26. New Mexico

By the time they pull into the parking lot of the Love’s truck stop in Tucumcari, Puck isn’t sure what he wants more: food from the Arby’s, a shower, or to actually move his hand, since he and Finn have been careful the entire time Finn’s been driving, to make sure he isn’t distracted by anything. 

“What first?” Puck asks. 

“Food,” Finn says. “Then showers. Then…” He shrugs and grins.

“We’ve been very well-behaved,” Puck says, grabbing their bags and climbing out of the truck. “But I don’t want a sticker.”

“Nope. Can’t do much with a sticker,” Finn says.

“I don’t want a prize from the prize box, either.” 

“Not even one of the pull-back cars?”

Puck grins at Finn as they walk into the Arby’s. “Not even a pull-back car,” he says. “Beef and cheddar?”

“Yeah. Curly fries, too. Get a big one and we can share.”

Puck nods and heads up to the counter while Finn sits down, and they go through their sandwiches, fries, turnovers, and shakes pretty fast, then go and pay for one of the five private showers. Puck doesn’t actually go up to the counter while Finn pays the attendant, just in case they have some kind of weird policy about how many people can share a shower stall. Puck manages to get wet and throw some soap on before he decides he’s had enough of being well-behaved, and he pushes Finn out of the spray and against the side of the shower, kissing him. 

Finn doesn’t seem to mind, kissing Puck back enthusiastically and running his hands down Puck’s sides. Puck braces himself on the wall with one hand, his other hand in Finn’s wet hair, and he brings their chests a little closer together. Finn’s hands slide around to Puck’s back and then down, until he’s just sort of cupping Puck’s ass in both his hands, pulling Puck even closer.

“Yeah, something like this,” Puck mumbles against Finn’s lips, running his tongue along Finn’s lower lip. 

“Yeah?” Finn asks. “A lot like this?”

“A little more of this,” Puck says, pushing his hips and his dick against Finn’s leg lightly, then a second time with more force behind it.

“Cool,” Finn says softly, pulling Puck against him again. 

“Yeah?” Puck moves his hand to Finn’s hip, tugging slightly as he rocks against Finn, kissing him again. Finn squeezes Puck’s ass as they kiss, encouraging Puck to keep moving. Puck does, sliding his tongue into Finn’s mouth again, and feeling Finn hard against him makes Puck move faster. 

After several more minutes of kissing and grinding, Finn breaks away and says, “I want… something.”

“Let me try something?” Puck asks. 

“Okay,” Finn says. Puck nods and puts his mouth back on Finn’s, sliding his hand from Finn’s hip to slowly wrap around Finn’s dick, and he strokes up equally slowly. Finn moans into Puck’s mouth, squeezing his ass again. Puck grins, still kissing Finn, and moves his hand a little faster, up and down Finn’s dick. His hand tightens, and he pushes his own dick against Finn’s leg harder than before. 

Finn moans again, moving his hands over Puck’s ass, almost like he’s petting it. Puck moves his hand as fast as he can, the soap they didn’t quite rinse off making it a little easier, and he thrusts up against Finn. One of Finn’s hands moves around to Puck’s hip, stroking up and down Puck’s thigh, before slowly moving in between his body and Puck’s to lightly trace along Puck’s dick.

Puck nods, his lips still against Finn’s, and he squeezes Finn’s dick gently as he strokes it. Finn’s hand wraps more firmly around Puck’s dick, moving slowly. Puck pulls away a little, keeping his face close to Finn’s. 

“Yeah, that’s awesome,” he says softly, still moving his own hand on Finn. 

“Yeah,” Finn breathes. “It feels good?”

“Oh, yeah,” Puck says, nodding. “Really good.” 

“Yeah, for me, too,” Finn says.

“Good.” Puck tightens his hand again, still stroking at the same pace. “You want to come in my hand?”

“Yeah,” Finn says, nodding his head. “Yeah, I want to.”

“Do it, then,” Puck says, kissing Finn as soon as he finishes talking. After only a few more strokes, Finn starts to come in Puck’s hand, just like Puck said, and it’s cool and awesome and Finn whimpers into Puck’s mouth while he’s coming. Finn goes still for a minute, leaning back against the wall, but then his hand starts moving on Puck again. 

Puck thrusts into Finn’s hand, moving his hand from Finn’s dick to Finn’s hip again, and he slips his tongue into Finn’s mouth while they kiss. Puck uses a small part of his brain to think about exactly what he’s doing and _who_ he’s doing it with, and that’s all it takes to have him coming all over himself and Finn. He ends up with most of his weight on Finn, his head slipping to Finn’s shoulder, the shower still running behind him. 

“That was so _cool_ ,” Finn says. 

“Yeah,” Puck agrees, moving his head just enough to kiss Finn’s neck. “I love you.” 

Finn startles a little, but then he puts his arms around Puck again. “Yeah,” he says. “Me, too. Love you, I mean.”

“That’s really cool, too,” Puck says with a momentary laugh. 

“We should wash the rest of the soap off, though, before they kick us out of the shower,” Finn says.

“Good point,” Puck says, and they do step back under the spray long enough to rinse off. “Sleep, a quick stop at that landscape college, and onto Arizona?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Sleep does sound good.”


	27. Arizona

It’s not even lunchtime when they cross into Arizona, and Puck stretches, feeling a little bored. “Hey, look. That sign says we’re heading towards Winslow, Arizona.” 

“ _Take it easy, take it easy_ ,” Finn sings to Puck. 

“ _Don’t let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy_ ,” Puck adds. “I never thought about it being a real place.” 

“I bet a lot of those songs are about real places,” Finn says. “We should do this again next summer, but just go to all the places from songs.”

“Not have to worry about college or anyone else’s college. Yeah,” Puck agrees, nodding. “Maybe not hit every single state, either. Just us and wherever we want to go.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. A few miles pass in silence, and then Finn suddenly asks, “So, are you my boyfriend?”

“Is that the word you like best?”

“What other word would I use?” Finn asks.

“I don’t know,” Puck says with a shrug. “But yeah.” 

“Cool,” Finn says. “And I’m your boyfriend, too.”

Puck grins. “Yeah, that too.”

“I probably better call Mom and check in today,” Finn says.

“Oh, yeah, it’s Friday again,” Puck says. “Might as well do it now. Want me to put you on speaker?”

“Sure,” Finn says.

Puck pulls up Carole on Finn’s phone, putting it on speaker while it’s still ringing, then rests his hand with the phone on Finn’s leg. It only rings twice before Carole picks up. 

“Hello, Finn,” Carole says. “I was starting to wonder if you were actually planning to check in again, or if you were calling my bluff about filing a missing persons report.”

“We’ve been really busy doing college stuff, Mom, geez!” Finn says.

“Yeah, we found a lot of cool places,” Puck says. “But not the place that stinks in Louisiana. The whole town smelled like cabbage.” 

“That’s… interesting, I suppose,” Carole says. “How’s the search going? Have you found some possibilities for either of you?”

“Yeah, we really liked Austin,” Finn says.

“Austin, Texas?” Carole asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, the campus was awesome,” Puck says. “And the food. _And_ we figured out a loophole around the Cowboys thing.” 

“Puck’s my boyfriend,” Finn blurts out suddenly.

“Excuse me?” Carole says. “Did you just say that Puck is your—”

“Boyfriend. Yeah.” Finn grins at Puck. “I hope that’s cool with you.”

“Finn, honey, is this some kind of a joke?” Carole asks.

“Nope. Boyfriend. Puck,” Finn says. 

“Oh. Oh my,” Carole says.

“I think there’s probably some kind of etiquette that we just skipped,” Puck says to Finn, grinning back at him. “I hope you weren’t driving, Carole.” 

“No, Noah, I wasn’t—”

“I didn’t want you to think I was keeping it a secret,” Finn says to Puck. “Sorry, Mom!”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Carole says. “Surprising. I think we’ll need to discuss this further when you’re back in Lima. Speaking of which…”

“Sorry, Mom, this is our exit!” Finn says loudly, even though they still have miles yet before they have to so much as merge anywhere or even change lanes. “Can you tell Kurt about Puck? And tell Kurt to tell Rachel?”

“I can do that, I suppose,” Carole says faintly. 

“Love you, Mom!”

“Love you, Carole,” Puck adds, still grinning. 

“I love you, too, boys,” Carole manages to get out before Puck ends the call. 

“That was ominous sounding,” Puck says. “Further discussion?”

“Nah, I bet it’s just the same talk I got when I started going out with Quinn,” Finn says. “Use protection and don’t throw your life away and stuff.”

“So… she’s going to tell you not to… get me pregnant?” Puck says slowly. “Dude, maybe your mom needs some biology refresher courses.” 

“Yeah, you can’t get pregnant from a handjob, anyway,” Finn says. “I mean, you’re also a dude.”

Puck laughs. “I’m pretty sure the second one is the bigger obstacle.” 

“Probably. Oh, what’s our actual exit, by the way?”

“Not until 195. Quick stop at Northern Arizona, and we need to figure out if anyone’s into forestry, and then up to take a picture at the Grand Canyon.” 

“Awesome!” Finn says. “You want to make out at the Grand Canyon?”

“That’d make a good picture,” Puck says, hand still on Finn’s leg. “We’ll get a postcard and mail it to your mom, too.” 

“Yeah. She handled it pretty good, I think,” Finn says.

“I guess I should let my mom know. That it’s you, I mean,” Puck says. 

Finn frowns. “She’ll be okay with it, too, right?”

“I already told her I wasn’t straight. Back before Nationals,” Puck admits. “I figured if she was upset, she had the time I was gone to get over it or whatever. But she was fine. Said she’d known or suspected or something like that.” 

“Okay, cool,” Finn says. 

“I half-expect a text back that says ‘I knew it’ or something,” Puck says with a shrug. “She’ll be fine. And I’ve been lecturing McKenzie for years whenever she said girls can’t marry girls or whatever.” 

“What about other people?” Finn asks. “Kurt’ll tell Rachel, Rachel will tell _everybody_.”

“Do you mind?” 

Finn shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t really think that through,” he admits. 

“Some people won’t believe her,” Puck says. “And some people probably figured out. I mean, I don’t think I’m actually that subtle.” 

“It’s just mainly that I don’t know what I’m supposed to say when they ask me the question,” Finn says.

“ _I_ still don’t know what to say,” Puck says. “I mean, people’ll assume. People we don’t already know. It’s only people we know that’ll even ask.” 

“And I don’t know what the answer is,” Finn says. “’Cause, I mean, it’s _you_ , so it didn’t really take that much working out in my head, once I started thinking about it. I don’t know what it would’ve been like if it was some random guy.”

“Yeah. It’s never _been_ anyone else for me. Guy, girl, whatever,” Puck says. “So I don’t know. Maybe we just pick an answer and go with it, and tell people to stop being so nosy.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “That’s probably good.”

“Or we can just go straight to the ‘none of your fucking business’ answer.” 

“Yeah, we could do that,” Finn says, but he starts to laugh. 

“What?” Puck asks. 

“I could just say I’m gay enough for us to jerk each other off,” Finn says, continuing to laugh.

Puck joins in the laughter. “You might be gay enough for more than that.” 

“Yeah, I might be,” Finn agrees.

Puck grins and squeezes Finn’s leg. “Guess we’ll find out.”


	28. California

“New plan,” Puck announces as they drive what he hopes is north, away from Los Angeles and UCLA. “We need a break after the clusterfuck that was LA.” 

“Yeah. Los Angeles is _not_ my favorite city,” Finn says. 

“Los Angeles is now my _least_ favorite,” Puck says. “Too many interstates. We’re going to head up US–101, go up the coast.” 

“Cool. We should go to some beaches,” Finn says. “West coast to go with east coast.”

“Yeah, and compare the seafood,” Puck says. “There’s got to be a lot of little local places right next to the ocean, right?” 

“Right,” Finn says. 

“First we’re going to stop near Santa Barbara for the night, though. No sense in pushing it,” Puck says. “Back of the truck or hostel?”

“Does the hostel have those private rooms like the one in Austin?” Finn asks. 

“Yeah, it looks like it,” Puck says, then he makes a face. “At that price, we’d do better to find a Motel 6. To get a private one, I mean.” 

“Back of the truck it is, I guess,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, I think so,” Puck agrees. “We’ll find a beach tomorrow and shower there.” By the time they hit Santa Barbara, Puck knows stopping is a good decision, and they eat at a Chinese buffet that’s close to US–101 before driving a little further from Santa Barbara and parking near some railroad tracks, far enough from the road that no one will spot them, Puck thinks. 

They set up the back of the truck, towels and blanket and mosquito netting, and Puck balls up his shirt under his head and neck before reaching for Finn. “Up for kissing me until you fall asleep?” he jokes. 

“Yeah, I could probably be convinced,” Finn says, rolling towards Puck and draping an arm over him. “Hey.”

“Hi there,” Puck says, grinning a little. “I have a question.” 

“Okay. Fire away,” Finn says.

“I counted it up. You traveled through twenty-one states with your best friend, and now five states with your boyfriend. What’s the difference?” 

“Other than the kissing and stuff?”

“Sure, yeah. Other than that.” 

Finn shrugs a little. “It’s just better.”

“Is the kissing and stuff better, too?”

Finn makes a sort of snorting noise and rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah. Duh. But it’s not just that. It just feels like— like, I could have done this all summer with my best friend, you know? With my boyfriend, I feel like I could keep doing this forever.”

“Maybe with a real pillow,” Puck says, moving closer to Finn. “How’d you know, anyway?”

“I didn’t know for sure until I kissed you,” Finn admits. “I mean, I thought I knew, but I still kind of wondered if I’d freak out or you’d freak out or something. I’d been thinking about it since that night we were drinking, though, and I think maybe even before that. Maybe as far back as North Carolina.” 

“While I was worried about my pet bat?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. He starts running his hand down Puck’s arm, petting it. “You were so sick, and I was _so_ scared, and I felt like I loved you more than anything in the whole world. You were the only thing that was important right then.”

“Yeah?” Puck scoots closer again, his eyes half-closed. “Sometimes I forget the rest of them are still out there. It’s just you and me.” 

“Yeah. Me, too. And then you said about how it had been six years, and six years was a long time, and then I thought maybe… maybe you really _were_ talking about me,” Finn says. “And I thought about it, and I thought, you know, this is the same. This feels like the same thing.”

“Yeah. You want to know something kind of funny?” Finn nods. “Jellybeans. That was the first time I thought ‘I want to kiss Finn’.” 

“Jellybeans?” Finn asks.

“Yeah, you brought in half of the jellybeans your mom gave you for…” Puck frowns. “I think it was Valentine’s Day, actually. Unless it was a really early Easter, because you were wearing that really thick sweater. Anyway, you just came in and plopped half of them on my desk.” 

“I remember that!” Finn says. “I had even picked out all the yellow ones, ’cause you didn’t like them.”

Puck grins, then laughs for a second before kissing Finn, gently at first and then a little more forcefully. “There,” he says when he pulls back. “It’s about six and a half years later, but it’s probably better I didn’t do that in the middle of fifth grade.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think that would’ve gone so good,” Finn says. 

“Not for anybody,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Time to make out now, I think.”

“Yeah, for sure,” Finn says. “Maybe not just make out?”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, running his hand down Puck’s arm again, and then down his chest. 

Puck grins, opening his eyes fully. “Sounds like a good idea to me.” 

They sleep pretty well in the truck, all things considered, and they’re almost to Pismo Beach the next morning when Finn’s phone rings. “Want me to get it?” Puck asks. 

“Yeah. That’s Kurt,” Finn says. 

“Speaker?” Puck asks, then answers the call as Finn shakes his head. “Hey, Kurt.” 

“Hello, Puck,” Kurt says. “Is Finn with you?”

“Yeah, Finn’s driving. We’re almost to San Luis Obispo. Well, almost to where we’re going right below it,” Puck says. “What’s up? It’s Sunday, right?”

“Yes, it’s Sunday, and I think you know what’s up,” Kurt says.

“Oh, Carole talked to you?” Puck says. “Can you do everyone a favor and remind her that dudes can’t get pregnant?”

“I’m sure she knows that already,” Kurt says, sounding confused. “I wanted to talk to Finn—or you, I guess—first, before I actually passed this information along to Rachel. That really _is_ what Finn wanted?”

“Yeah, I think he was thinking about, I don’t know. Preparing her?” Puck says, glancing at Finn and making a face. “Rachel,” he mouths. Finn gives him a thumbs up.

“I see,” Kurt says.

“I mean, I guess you could just ask Carole to tell her instead, but that’d be a lot weirder,” Puck says. “Did you not realize Finn was gone for two weeks? ’Cause Rachel called us two weeks in sounding surprised we’d left.” 

“I knew he was gone. I didn’t enlighten Rachel of that fact because the two were no longer dating,” Kurt says. “Plus, I’ve been busy with my own romantic life.”

“Good for you?” Puck says uncertainly. “I thought your Warbler was going to be out of town singing at amusement parks.”

“He’s home most of the week,” Kurt says. 

“Well, okay.” Puck shrugs, even though Kurt can’t see him. “But yeah. You can tell Rachel. Full steam ahead or whatever. Oh, we found you a great college, by the way.” 

“Oh? Do tell,” Kurt says, sounding amused and more than a little dubious. 

“Yeah, it’s got a really hard to get into musical theatre program, Elon,” Puck says. “Oh, and a college in Connecticut with its own fashion magazine.” 

“Oh!” Kurt explains. “Those _do_ sound like possible options. I’m familiar with Elon.”

“I don’t remember much about North Carolina or South Carolina,” Puck says. “You’ll have to ask Finn about what it was like.” Puck looks over at Finn, mouthing “You want to say hi?”

“Sure?” Finn says, side-eying the phone like his ‘sure’ is really a ‘no’.

Puck grins, trying not to laugh out loud. “So I’ve got to get back to the map,” he says to Kurt. “Have a good… is today Sunday? Have a good Sunday. I think we talked about that already. Bye!” Puck hangs up before Kurt has a chance to respond, and he grins at Finn. “Almost to the beach.” 

“Awesome. I promise I’ll wear sunscreen this time,” Finn says.

“I think I’ll put it on for you to make sure,” Puck says, still grinning. “Just in case you get distracted.” 

“Yeah, but you’re the thing that’d probably distract me!”

Puck laughs. “I was counting on that.” 

When they park near the boardwalk, Puck does start putting sunscreen on Finn, but as they walk towards the beach, he mentally acknowledges that it’s probably half-well-applied and half-impatiently. Puck puts that out of his brain, though, grabbing Finn’s hand and running towards the waves. He keeps going after they hit the waves, trying to pull Finn farther out. 

“C’mon!” 

“Maybe we’ll see a dolphin!” Finn says, allowing himself to be dragged along.

“Yeah, there’s a hotel called Dolphin-something, too,” Puck says, stopping when just the stop of his shoulders are above the water, and he keeps tugging on Finn until Finn’s next to him. “You think the dolphins like to play with all the humans?” 

“I don’t know. If I was a dolphin, I’d want to play with you,” Finn says. 

“Lucky for both of us, neither of us is a dolphin, but we can still play,” Puck says with a grin before kissing Finn. Finn smiles against Puck’s lips, wrapping his arms around Puck.

Puck keeps kissing Finn, the water moving around them, and then he puts both arms around Finn’s neck and hops a little before wrapping both legs around Finn. Finn pulls him in closer, laughing a little. 

“Hey, I’m lighter in the water,” Puck says between kisses. 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. “I like it.”

“Yeah? Don’t drop me,” Puck warns. 

“No way,” Finn says. He pulls Puck against him harder, grinding against him.

Puck laughs. “Yeah, I guess you won’t,” he says, kissing the side of Finn’s neck and then licking it. “You’re already salty.” 

“I’m seasoned,” Finn says. “Don’t bite, though.”

“Not into that?” Puck says. “I was thinking more like I should blow you later.” 

“Yeah?” Finn asks.

“I mean, I don’t _have_ to,” Puck says, still kissing Finn’s neck. “If you don’t _want_ me to.” 

“No, I want you to,” Finn says. “I really want you to.”

“Thought you might,” Puck says, tightening his legs around Finn. Finn moves one of his arms until it’s partially under Puck, giving Finn access to squeeze Puck’s ass. 

“Yeah,” Finn says. Puck grins again, moving his mouth back to Finn’s and holding on tightly to Finn. Finn kisses Puck hard, his tongue pushing into Puck’s mouth, and he keeps squeezing Puck’s ass while they make out. 

They’re far enough out that there aren’t too many people near them, and Puck tunes out pretty much everything except Finn and the sound of the waves breaking nearby. His fingers tug at Finn’s hair and dig into Finn’s back a little, and he moves his hips a little with Finn’s hands. Finn keeps grinding and squeezing, keeping Puck pulled tightly against him. 

Puck whines into Finn’s mouth, wiggling a little and trying to get more pressure and friction against his dick. Finn lifts Puck slightly, resettling him so Puck’s dick and Finn’s rub against each other through their swim trunks. Puck mumbles “That’s better,” into Finn’s mouth, the two of them still kissing, and he pushes his hips forward and up slightly, moving his dick along Finn’s. 

“Yeah,” Finn says, almost sighing into Puck’s mouth. “Yeah. So good.”

“So _hot_ ,” Puck says. “You’re so hot.” 

“You’re hot,” Finn replies, grinding harder against Puck. 

“Then we’re hot,” Puck says, kissing Finn again and pushing as close to Finn as he can. 

“You’re gonna make me come like this,” Finn says.

“I thought that was the point.” 

“Just making sure,” Finn says. “You, too?”

“Yeah,” Puck says, feeling like he’s almost clinging to Finn, his legs and arms almost stiff as he keeps thrusting against Finn. 

“Oh shit,” Finn suddenly whispers. “Oh shit, Puck. Shit, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna—” He breaks off, grinding harder against Puck, his eyes sliding closed. 

“Yeah,” Puck says softly, his hips still moving and his dick rubbing against Finn for a few more moments before he hears himself crying out as he comes, his body wrapped around Finn’s. Finn’s arms wrap around Puck’s back again, holding them together in the cool, clear water. 

Puck rests his head on Finn’s shoulder, watching the ocean around them, and he grins to himself. “You know what?” 

“What?” Finn asks.

“Don’t let on that we figured it out, but we’re, like, the luckiest people we know.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, pressing his lips to the top of Puck’s head. “We definitely are.”

The two of them keep going from the water to the beach and back again during the day, and a few times they wander up to the boardwalk area for pizza, fries, and ice cream. When the sun starts to set, they shower off the sand at the showers next to the boardwalk, then walk back to the truck. 

“So I think I promised you something,” Puck says with a sideways grin. 

“As soon as the sun sets,” Finn says, lowering the tailgate. “How many sunsets like this are we going to see in Texas, you know?”

“We can always drive over for spring break or something,” Puck says, but he sits next to Finn on the tailgate, staring at the ocean and the setting sun. “Or maybe winter break, if it stays warm here.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. He reaches for Puck’s hand and holds it while the sun sinks farther into the ocean horizon. 

“Looks like a postcard,” Puck says. 

“It’s pretty,” Finn says. 

“Like I said, lucky,” Puck says, and only the top of the sun is visible as he says it. “Song places next summer, right?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “We’ll start making a list.”

“Maybe movies the year after that,” Puck says. “We can probably come up with a lot of reasons to drive around in the summers.” 

“Yeah. I like driving around with you,” Finn says, then he gets really quiet, holding onto Puck’s hand and staring out at the last tiny sliver of sun.

“What is it?” Puck asks, nudging Finn with his shoulder. 

“So what do you think’s going to happen?” Finn asks. “Like, in the future. Where do you think we’ll be?”

Puck shrugs a little. “Well, after we have awesome jobs, we’ll probably want a house. We should get a riding mower, and repaint all the rooms. Oh, and we should have a big-screen like… _in_ the bedroom.” Puck pauses, looking at the sun as it disappears. “And then I guess— is that what you meant?” 

Finn shrugs and nods. “Just, what if I’m as bad of a boyfriend for you as I was for girls?” he asks.

“I didn’t think you were a bad boyfriend to anyone,” Puck says. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I thought I must’ve been a bad boyfriend, ’cause they’d cheat on me or get tired of me,” Finn says. “And Quinn really thought I was a bad boyfriend.”

“You and I know better than anyone that Quinn’s got her own issues,” Puck says quietly. “And as far as getting tired of you… think about that one for a minute.” 

“That’s different, though. People don’t get tired of best friends the same way.”

“Still,” Puck argues. “I’m not guilt-tripping you, but seriously. Six years. I think you’re probably good.” 

“Okay,” Finn says, squeezing Puck’s hand. “’Cause I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you now.”

“Stuck with me,” Puck says, turning away from the ocean and grinning at Finn. “Think you can handle that?”

“Yeah. I think so,” Finn says.

“You want what I promised you, now?”

Finn grins back at Puck. “Yeah. You want to do it now?”

“Maybe flip the tailgate up first,” Puck says, scooting back into the bed of the truck. 

“Sounds good,” Finn says, pulling the tailgate back up and then crawling up the truck bed and on top of Puck to kiss him.

Puck puts his hand on the back of Finn’s neck, kissing him lazily, and runs his other hand down Finn’s side, stopping at his waist. He moves his hand slowly under the elastic of Finn’s swim trunks, stroking at Finn’s skin with his fingertips. 

“Never actually done this before,” Puck admits. “Just pretend it’s awesome, even if it sucks.” 

“I know it’ll be awesome,” Finn says. “Anyway, I haven’t ever had it done to me, so I wouldn’t know if it sucked.”

Puck laughs. “Gives me some wiggle room.” He moves his hand away from Finn’s side, wrapping his fingers around Finn’s dick. “You sure you want me to?”

“Yes,” Finn says, thrusting up slightly into Puck’s hand. “I want you to. I really want you to.” 

“Good,” Puck says, nudging Finn onto his back, his hand still on Finn’s dick. “’Cause I want to.” 

Finn rolls onto his back and lifts his hips, tugging down his swim trunks. Puck grins and moves his hands, helping Finn with the swim trunks until he decides they’re far enough down. Puck sits back a little, just looking at Finn, and he grins at him. 

“Awesome.” 

“Yeah?” Finn asks.

Puck nods, leaning down, and he licks across the head of Finn’s dick before grinning again. “Salty.” 

Finn laughs softly. He reaches for Puck’s head, running his hand over Puck’s hair. “Well, ocean, I guess.”

“I still won’t bite,” Puck says, then licks again before slowly taking Finn’s dick into his mouth, his lips sliding down. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Puck,” Finn says. “That’s the awesomest thing ever.”

Puck grins a little around Finn’s dick, which makes him think explicitly about the fact that Finn’s dick is _actually_ in his mouth, salty and hard, and Puck closes his eyes, moving his lips again and trying to get more of Finn in his mouth. Finn moans and thrusts up, his hand still curved around the back of Puck’s head.

Finn’s dick slides further into Puck’s mouth, and Puck tries to open his mouth wider, moving back just a little before moving down again. He puts one hand around the bottom of Finn’s dick, straining to get his lips to reach his hand, and he gags a little as he does.

“You okay?” Finn asks.

Puck nods, doing the same thing again, and he places his other hand under Finn’s ass, pushing on it slightly. Finn lifts his hips, thrusting into Puck’s mouth again with another moan. Puck nods and gags again, moving his mouth a little faster, and he squeezes Finn’s ass, fingers almost pinched between Finn and the truck. 

“Puck, that’s so good, your mouth feels so good,” Finn says. “I’m not gonna last real long.”

Puck squeezes Finn’s ass again, his mouth moving on Finn’s dick as fast as he can. Finn pushes down on Puck’s head, guiding him a little, and soon Finn is gasping and making short, sharp cries as he starts to come in Puck’s mouth. Puck swallows the best he can, coughing a little, his mouth on Finn until Finn is completely still. 

Puck pulls back slowly, suddenly aware that in addition to feeling wet and a little sticky around his mouth, his eyes have been watering too, and he’s pretty sure he looks like a complete mess, for all that he feels so awesome. He runs his fingers over Finn’s dick once, then half-heartedly tugs at Finn’s trunks. 

Finn laughs and pulls Puck up into a kiss, ignoring the mess as his mouth presses to Puck’s. Puck throws one leg over Finn, settling mostly beside Finn in the back of the truck. 

“Good?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, wiping his face off with the back of his hand and then doing the same to Puck. “Did you want me to give you one now?”

“If you want to,” Puck says, his hips pushing forward against Finn almost involuntarily. “It was pretty damn awesome.” 

“Yeah, I want to,” Finn says, rolling onto his side and tugging at the waistband of Puck’s swim trunks. “Help me get ’em off.”

“Yeah, okay,” Puck says, lifting his hips and pushing his trunks down to his knees. Finn pushes on Puck’s hips, rolling him onto his back, and almost immediately shifts positions and wraps his lips around the head of Puck’s dick. “Oh, shit, that’s hot,” Puck says. 

Finn nods and slides his mouth farther down, curling his fingers around the base of Puck’s dick. He runs his tongue along the shaft and over the head a few times, his eyes occasionally flicking up to meet Puck’s. 

Puck nods a little and grins, putting his hands through Finn’s hair and cupping the back of his head. “It’s awesome,” he says. “You’re so fucking hot.” 

Finn looks like he tries to smile, but then his eyebrows squish together like he’s concentrating, and he moves his mouth lower on Puck’s dick, taking him in deeper. Puck pets at Finn’s head, trying not to thrust up into Finn’s mouth unless Finn encourages him to, and he lets out a long almost-groan. 

“Your mouth feels so good, Finn,” Puck says. “So good.” 

Finn grips Puck’s hip with his free hand and moves his mouth a little faster, the hand around the base of Puck’s dick stroking up roughly to meet Finn’s lips. Puck tugs at Finn’s hair, his eyes half-closing, and he lifts his head enough to really stare down at Finn and Finn’s mouth wrapped around Puck’s dick, and this time it’s definitely a little moan that Puck makes. 

Finn lets out a muffled sound that vibrates around Puck’s dick, and he squeezes Puck’s hip, pulling up on it like he’s trying to encourage Puck to move, too. Puck nods, moaning again, and thrusts up as gently as he can into Finn’s mouth. Finn takes him in a little deeper, continuing to make the muffled noises around Puck’s dick, still moving his hand in short, rough strokes from the base of Puck’s dick up to Finn’s lips. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Puck says softly, then thrusts up again, a little harder, as he starts to come. 

The noise Finn makes sounds surprised, but he keeps sucking on Puck’s dick until Puck relaxes back against the truck bed. Finn sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and then smiles at Puck.

“Was that okay?”

Puck reaches for Finn, tugging him closer. “Perfect.” 

“Cool,” Finn says, scooting up to lie beside Puck. He leans over and gently kisses Puck. 

“Pretty damn cool,” Puck agrees, putting his arms around Finn. “I don’t want to live here, but this is a pretty nice vacation spot.” 

“Yeah. We should find some songs about this beach and come back next summer,” Finn says.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Puck says. “Maybe we could be professional roadtrippers.” 

“That would be awesome,” Finn says. He sighs happily, then starts to laugh. “We should probably pull our shorts back up before we fall asleep.”

Puck laughs along with him. “Yeah, we don’t want anyone to call the cops. I bet California cops aren’t as awesome as Alabama sheriffs.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that, too,” Finn says.

“Why? What were you thinking about?” 

“Dick sunburn.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, okay, that’d suck, but… the sun already set.” 

“It’ll come up in the morning, though,” Finn says. “Maybe we’ll sleep late.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Puck says, lifting his hips enough to pull his trunks back up. “There. Now we can just stare at the stars and fall asleep. Starburn.”

“Yeah,” Finn says, pulling up his own trunks. “Sounds good to me.”

They don’t sleep too late, but it is after the sun’s up before Puck wakes up, and he leans over, kissing Finn without saying anything first. Finn smiles before he even opens his eyes.

“Hey,” Finn says. “Sleep good?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” Finn stretches and puts his arms around Puck. “I like the beach.”

“Yeah. I like the way it sounds. And smells.” Puck grins and takes an exaggerated sniff. “You smell pretty good, too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Puck sniffs again. “Salt. A little bit of sweat. Sex.” 

“Awesome,” Finn says. “You smell good, too.”

“Cool.” Puck pauses and then laughs. “We probably should shower, though, since I bet other people won’t like our smell as much.” 

“Too bad for them,” Finn says.

“We could just wait until we’re leaving here,” Puck says. “You want to hang out here another day, then cut back to Nevada?”

“Do you think they’d let us into the casinos?” Finn asks.

“I have no idea,” Puck says with a shrug. “Maybe we could play the slot machines and make some laundry money.” 

“Yeah, we kind of do need to do laundry.”

“If we stay here another day, we can just wear our trunks all day long,” Puck says. “That gives us another day. And we can, I don’t know. Air out a shirt each.” Puck grins suddenly. “That Febreze stuff!” 

“Probably cheaper to run a load than to buy Febreze, though, dude,” Finn says.

“Oh, yeah. We should have taken some before we left.” Puck shrugs. “We’ll know for next summer. You want to try to find that place that said they had doughnuts in the mornings?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Finn says.

“Doughnuts and coffee sounds pretty good most mornings,” Puck says, sitting up and offering Finn a hand. “Maybe today we’ll see dolphins.” 

They find the doughnuts easily and spend the rest of the day the same way that they did Sunday, down to watching the sunset from the truck and blowjobs before falling asleep. They do get woken up by fireworks, which makes them realize it’s Independence Day. Tuesday morning, they get doughnuts and coffee again, and as Finn heads east for the first time in what feels like months, Puck picks up their phones for the first time since they got to Pismo Beach. 

“We have missed calls,” he says. “Should we return any of them, or wait on people to call us back?” 

“Who’d we miss?” Finn asks.

“Your mom. Rachel. My mom – I’ll just text her. And two numbers I don’t know.” 

“Maybe we’ll just wait for people to call us back,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Puck says, putting the phones back down and grinning at Finn. “We’ll keep things quiet for the morning.”


	29. Nevada

Except for the sign, Puck wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between California and Nevada along I–15, but after about five hours of driving, there is a sign that helpfully welcomes them to Nevada. They pass a casino and nothing else, still heading east to Las Vegas, and Puck’s starting to think they might make it to Las Vegas without anyone calling back. 

As soon as he thinks that, the phone rings five minutes later, and he shakes his head. 

“We almost made it,” he says sadly, picking up Finn’s phone without even looking at the caller and putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Noah?” Rachel’s voice answers. “Is Finn there? Finn? Am I on speaker?”

“Uh. Yeah,” Finn says. “Hi, Rachel.”

“Finn! Hello. Oh, and hello to you as well, Noah. Finn, Kurt told me that you and Noah are dating? Is that true?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s really dating, since we’re not going on dates. I think it’s that he’s my boyfriend,” Finn explains.

Puck grins, managing not to laugh, and nods a little. “Coin laundry’s an exciting date,” he says, mostly to Finn. 

“I have to say, I was somewhat surprised,” Rachel says. “Or, rather, I still _am_ a bit surprised, but of course I’m very happy for the two of you! Oh, and you’ll have so many cute pictures through the years to use in the wedding video! That’s so wonderful.”

“Wedding video?” Puck whispers to Finn. “What’s she talking about?”

“No clue,” Finn whispers back, then raises his voice again. “Going a little fast there, Rachel.”

“Oh! Yes, sorry,” Rachel says hurriedly, sounding a little flustered. “Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of the states you’re visiting. Where are you today?” 

“Nevada,” Puck answers. “And we will.” 

“Yeah, thanks for calling, Rachel,” Finn adds.

“Bye!” Rachel says brightly, and the call ends. 

Puck laughs to himself and nudges Finn’s leg. “You know why that was crazy?” he jokes. 

“Uh, ’cause she was already talking about wedding videos?” Finn guesses.

“Well, yeah, and we’re seventeen. No one gets married when they’re teenagers.” Puck pauses. “Unless your mom turns out to be right, and you knock me up.” 

“Still don’t think you can get pregnant from hand jobs,” Finn says, “or blowjobs.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past evolution,” Puck says. “Remember that lecture in biology? About how nature finds a way?” Puck shakes his head. “We can’t count on that,” he says solemnly, then laughs. “And here’s Vegas, speaking of against odds.” 

“If we can’t get into the casinos, what do you want to do?”

“One of those all-you-can-eat buffets,” Puck says. “Let’s get the flier from UNLV in the morning.” 

“Sounds good to me. Look for a hostel or sleep in the truck?” Finn asks.

“I don’t _want_ to spend money on a hostel, but sleeping in the truck in a place like Vegas seems like a bad plan,” Puck says. “Don’t people stay up pretty much all night?” 

“Yeah, but I don’t think _we_ can do that. Not and still drive tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah, but I don’t want people coming up to the truck while we’re asleep.” Puck looks on the phone for a few minutes, then nods. “Hostel, king size private room, only thirty-five,” he says. “And they have all you can make pancakes in the morning.” 

“Cool. Sounds like the place to be!” Finn says. 

“Fremont Street. Let’s dump our stuff and then go get some laundry money and some food?”

“Yeah. I think we have to wash those beach towels, at least,” Finn says.

Puck makes a face. “Yeah, I think the rest of the country’s going to be happiest if we win at the slot machines tonight.”


	30. Utah

“Welcome to Utah,” Puck reads off the sign, “where we’re going to be stopping at the first city we encounter, just to get it over with.” 

“Yeah, I already don’t like Utah,” Finn says.

“Because it’s ugly?”

“Yeah, that’s part of it,” Finn says. 

“Mormons?” Puck guesses.

“Another part of it,” Finn says. “It’s also just taking too long.”

“You got somewhere to be? Today is…” Puck checks on Finn’s phone. “Wednesday, July 6.” 

“Yeah, I might, actually.”

“Secret rond-a-whatever at Yellowstone?”

Finn laughs. “Not exactly.”

“Where is it, then?” Puck asks, grinning a little. 

“Colorado,” Finn says nonchalantly. 

“I always thought you were eager to ski,” Puck says very solemnly. “Wrong time of year for skiing. Think you can find something else to do?”

“I sure hope so,” Finn says. “I mean, I’m _planning_ to.”

Puck grins widely. “Well, let me know. I bet I could help you out with that.” 

They get in and out of the oddly-named Dixie State University pretty quickly, finding out that they have a showchoir, and eat lunch before heading north on I–15 for what feels like forever. Puck suggests a break about an hour in, Finn another one after another hour of driving, and when the sign says Provo is close, Puck sighs. 

“Let’s just eat dinner in Provo and find a campground,” Puck says, looking at his phone. “Yeah, here’s one that we can park at for cheap.”

“Cool. It feels nice out, so we’ll throw the netting over us and sleep in the back, if you’re cool with that,” Finn says.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Puck says, nodding. They eat at a Jimmy John’s, then find the campground, setting up the back of the truck just as the sun is setting. “Pretty good,” Puck says, looking up at the sky. “Even with the netting in the way of the stars.”

“Yeah. It _is_ pretty out here, even if I still don’t really like Utah,” Finn says, reaching for Puck’s hand. 

“Too many Mormons,” Puck says. “That place across from the Jimmy John’s was huge.” He squeezes Finn’s hand, still staring up at the stars. 

“So, do you think we should get an apartment or stay in the dorms?” Finn asks. “At college, I mean.”

“Most dorms are for two people, right?” Puck shrugs. “As long as we don’t have to share with anyone else, the dorm’s cheaper I bet. And we wouldn’t have to cook as much.” 

“Yeah. We could still get a microwave and a mini-fridge, though.”

“Yeah.” Puck looks at Finn and grins. “Maybe even a George Foreman, if you don’t see Jesus in it.” 

“Shut up!” Finn says, laughing as he swats at Puck’s arm. “That was serious! Don’t mock Grilled Cheesus.”

“Didn’t you end up _eating_ him?” Puck says, laughing too. 

“So? Catholics do it all the time!”

Puck keeps laughing. “We’re not worshipping any food gods, okay?” 

“I can if I want to,” Finn says, poking Puck in the side between his ribs. “I can set up candles and worship a watermelon if I want, and you can’t stop me.”

“Oh I bet I can,” Puck says. “First of all, in the dorm, it’ll be either watermelon or television.” 

“My watermelon god doesn’t make me wear silly, tiny hats,” Finn says. 

“Your watermelon god will actually start to smell,” Puck counters. “What if I withheld blowjobs until your watermelon god is gone?”

“Dude,” Finn says.

“Yeah, you’re not so loyal to watermelon god now,” Puck says. 

“Jerk,” Finn says, poking Puck in the side again, wiggling his fingers around.

“You’re not really complaining,” Puck says smugly. “We should take a Browns poster for our dorm, like a vaccination against the Cowboys.” 

“Oh yeah,” Finn says. “We can have a no Cowboys gear policy, too.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Puck pauses. “You think we should join a frat?” 

“I don’t know. We should look them up or something.”

“I mean…” Puck falls silent for a few moments, then squeezes Finn’s hand. “Are frats going to be okay with us?”

“Ohhh. Yeah, I don’t know,” Finn says. “I guess I’m not really used to thinking about that kind of stuff yet. It’s just been you and me the whole trip, you know? It just feels, like, _normal_.”

“Yeah, it does,” Puck says. “I was just thinking it’d be good if we tried to, I don’t know. Minimize that shit. So we can keep feeling normal.” 

“Yeah. I like it, how it feels now.”

“Me too.” Puck shifts a little, propping his head on Finn’s upper arm. “Let’s time it so we’re barely back in Lima before school starts. Even if we get to all of the states before that.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. He puts his arm around Puck, and they stare up at the stars for a while before he starts talking again. “It doesn’t feel that different, you know?”

“Most of it doesn’t,” Puck says, nodding his head a little. “The parts that do are pretty awesome.” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees. 

“I’ve wondered a couple of times if I were dreaming, since Texas,” Puck admits. 

Finn suddenly pinches Puck’s arm, hard. “Did that hurt?” he asks.

“Ouch,” Puck says, sticking out his tongue. “Anyway, I never dreamed about giving a blowjob in detail, so I figured that was a good clue that it was real.”

“You want to try it again in detail to make sure?” Finn asks. “You know, just to be on the safe side?”

Puck laughs. “It’s nice of you to volunteer to help me out,” he says, sliding his hand down Finn’s chest and then cupping Finn’s dick. “Helping me, helping you, huh?” 

“Yeah, I’m helpful like that,” Finn says.

“Considerate, even,” Puck says wryly, squeezing gently with his hand. “I love you.” 

“I love you,” Finn says. “This is the best road trip ever.”


	31. Idaho

“I hope someone wants to go learn about International Political Economy or Leadership Studies,” Puck says with a frown as he looks at the flier from College of Idaho. “It took long enough to get here.” 

“Maybe Santana,” Finn says. “Idaho seems like a good fit for her.”

“If by ‘good fit’ you mean ‘far away from us’, yeah,” Puck agrees. “And she’d probably like to think of herself as a leader. Are you tired of Idaho yet?”

“Yeah. I’m tired of this whole part of the country,” Finn says.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to explain to your mom that we’re missing fliers for three states or whatever because we went straight to Colorado,” Puck says with a grin. 

“We could’ve just said we lost those,” Finn says. “They got rained on. They blew out at a gas station.”

“We’re too honest,” Puck says with a sigh. “And we’ve got to push on to Baker City before we sleep, because there’s nothing between here and there. I didn’t know Oregon was going to be so deserted, but the map says there’ll be nothing after we hit this last town in Idaho.” 

“Okay,” Finn says. “I’m tired, though. You want to drive for a while?”

“Sure. Murphy’s Law says as soon as I drive, either your mom or someone else from Lima’s going to call,” Puck says. “Sunday was Kurt, Tuesday was Rachel, and now it’s Thursday afternoon.” 

“Yeah. My head’s hurting, is all.”

“Want me to— no, I think there’s still some ibuprofen in my bag,” Puck says, digging it out and handing Finn one of the little sample packs from the hospital. “Something redeeming about South Carolina.” 

“Cool, thanks,” Finn says. “Can you open another pop for me?”

“Yeah,” Puck says, opening the pop and grabbing one of the bags of chips he’d bought yesterday and not eaten, handing it to Finn too. “Want me to put your phone on silent, so you won’t know if anyone calls?”

“I think I might take a nap once you start driving. I’ll turn it off then.”

“Okay,” Puck says, climbing in the driver’s side and starting up the truck. “Anything sound good for dinner?”

Finn shakes his head. “Nah. I’m not really all that hungry.”

“Don’t make me go all Jewish grandmother on you,” Puck says warningly as he pulls out and heads back to the interstate. 

“I’ll eat whatever you want to eat,” Finn says. 

“I’m just saying, don’t be surprised if it’s chicken soup,” Puck says. “And a slice of your watermelon god.”


	32. Oregon

Considering the hour that they’d arrived in Baker City, and that they’d agreed to just get a room at the Always Welcome Inn off the interstate, Puck had hoped for two things about waking up in Oregon on Friday morning: sleeping in, and staying in bed with Finn for at least a little while after they woke up. 

Unfortunately, the first thing he notices, after the sunlight coming in around the windows, is that someone’s phone is ringing, loudly, and as much as Puck wants to ignore it, he also wants to yell at whoever is calling. 

“What do you want?” Puck grumbles as soon as he answers the phone. He runs his hand over his eyes and blinks at the clock. “It’s barely 7 am.” 

“Where are you?” Santana’s voice demands. “What time zone are you even in?”

“Baker City, Oregon,” Puck says. “Which is Pacific. What the hell, Santana?”

“Is it true about you and Apple Dumpling?”

“Stop it,” Puck says, sounding more like his mom than he intends to, but he figures part of that’s because of Finn having had the headache the day before. “I have no idea why you care, but yeah. Me and Finn.” 

“Guess that explains a lot,” Santana says. 

“You woke me up, when I’m actually on a mattress, to tell me that it explains a lot?” Puck says. “What the hell?”

“What? I can’t just take Rachel Berry’s word about anything!” Santana protests. 

“You could have asked Kurt. Or, I don’t know. Texted like a normal person.” 

“So, is he better at queer sex than he is at straight sex?”

“Oh, fuck off, Santana,” Puck says, ending the call and dropping his phone on the nightstand before lying back down. “No one’ll call for at least another day, anyway,” he says to himself. “Finn?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Let’s get more sleep,” Puck says, putting his arm and leg over Finn again. “Unless you wanted to wake up to stay in bed.” 

“I never _stopped_ sleeping,” Finn mumbles.

“Wake me up, then,” Puck says as he closes his eyes. 

“Mmkay,” Finn says, his voice tapering off at the end. 

“Check-out’s late,” Puck whispers a few moments later. “Just sleep.” 

Puck has weird dreams about bowling, but all of the pins have Santana’s face, and no matter how many times he rolls a strike, the Santana-pins jump back up with a cheer, because of course they’re Santana as a Cheerio. When he wakes up, Finn is still asleep, and Puck takes a shower before going to get the continental breakfast. 

The continental breakfast ends up being fruit and vending machine pastries, and the cream for the coffee is powdered non-dairy creamer, which is dumb, but he loads up on bananas and bear claws anyway. 

“Sort of breakfast,” Puck says to Finn’s back when he returns to the room. “You going to keep on sleeping?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You want to watch me give this banana a blowjob?” 

“Huh?”

“It’s not as big as you,” Puck says conversationally. “Probably be pretty boring.” 

“Sleeping,” Finn says, pulling the pillow over his head. 

“Guess I’ll just eat it, then.” Puck opens one of the bear claws and takes it and the banana with him when he sits back down on the bed. “I was thinking, let’s stop at Yellowstone for a few days.” When Finn doesn’t answer, Puck eats the bear claw. “It’d be good to sleep in for more than just one day. Unless you wanted to stop in Colorado instead.” He grins a little and pokes at Finn’s leg gently with his foot. “I’m going to tell you that you agreed to all kinds of things.” 

Puck sits on the bed, eating his banana and drinking his coffee, while Finn keeps sleeping, and Puck’s coffee has been gone for awhile before Finn moves like he’s about to wake up. 

“Hey,” Puck says quietly. 

“Hey,” Finn says, stretching and slowly sitting up. His hair is sticking straight up the front, and his face has creases across it from the sheets. “What time is it?”

“I think it’s about 10:30. We’ve got plenty of time before check-out. Sleep good?”

“Yeah. My head’s feeling a little better,” Finn says. “How long have you been up?”

“Forty-five minutes, maybe?” Puck guesses. “Took a shower and got the… well, the free snacks. It’s not really a breakfast.”

“No? I thought they had continental breakfast?”

"Fruit and bear claws like you'd get in the vending machine," Puck says. "And coffee. You want yours?"

“Is it still warm?” Finn asks. 

“Should be, yeah,” Puck says, getting up long enough to pull Finn’s coffee out of the microwave where he’d stuck it. “Yeah, cup’s still warm,” he says, handing it to Finn. “Have a bear claw.” 

“Cool, thanks,” Finn says. “Sorry I slept so long.”

"I didn't wake up _that_ much earlier. It's cool." Puck sits back down on the bed, closer to Finn than before. "I think everyone's going to end up calling us."

“Who else called?” Finn asks. He scoots closer to Puck and grabs him around the waist, pulling him close. 

"Santana," Puck says with a scoff. "Called at 7 am."

“Why?”

"Probably just to be an ass. Which she was. I hung up on her, but I bet other people will call sooner or later." Puck leans his head against Finn's shoulder, relaxing against him. 

“Because of you and me?” Finn asks.

"Yeah. Said it explained a lot, which fair enough if she meant about me. Made a couple of cracks. She won't like it if she keeps doing that."

“That’s just how she is,” Finn says. “Wouldn’t be Santana if she wasn’t saying something mean about me.”

"Yeah, and I kept my mouth shut when maybe I shouldn't have," Puck says. "Not hiding anything anymore."

“Don’t worry about her. There’s nothing she can say that makes us any less awesome,” Finn says.

"Still doesn't mean I want to hear it, is all," Puck explains. "Do you want to eat a real breakfast in this town, or wait to check out and eat a big lunch a little further north?"

“Let’s shoot for lunch,” Finn says. “I’m kind of ready to get out of here.”

“What do you want to do until lunch, then?” Puck says, grinning. 

“Why don’t you take off your clothes and I’ll show you?”

Puck checks them out of the motel at 11:59 pm, completely unrepentant about the time and grinning when the guy behind the counter, who doesn’t look much older than them, if any older, points it out. It takes them about an hour to get to La Grande and Eastern Oregon University, and another ten minutes to get inside, grab some fliers, and get back to the truck to start looking for a place to eat lunch. 

“Let’s go to Bud Jackson’s Sportsmans Bar and Grill,” Puck says with a laugh. “It promises pub food and a dance floor. Maybe we’ll get some entertainment before we head to Washington State.”


	33. Washington

By the time that Oregon 11 becomes Washington 125, they’re only four or five miles from the next college, Whitman, but they’ve been on the road from La Grande for almost two hours. Puck figures that they should get in, get fliers, and start worrying about where to spend the night, because even getting on US–12 going east isn’t going to take them anywhere with a big population. 

“This place actually looks cool, but it’s in the middle of nowhere,” Puck says. “Maybe some of the girls would be interested.” 

“Who do we want to stick out in the middle of nowhere?” Finn asks.

“Not Tina,” Puck says after a minute. “Brittany’d probably love it, though.” 

“She might wander out into the wilderness and get lost, though,” Finn says. 

“That’s a potential problem anywhere. It’d be worse in a city,” Puck says. “Can you imagine Brittany in, like… LA?”

“Nooooo,” Finn says, shaking his head. “No way.”

“Maybe they have a search and rescue team,” Puck says as they park. “Brittany could train that fat cat of hers to search for people lost in eastern Washington.” 

“That would be a cool job,” Finn says.

“Weird one.” When they go into the admissions office to get their fliers, the older woman at the front desk gets very concerned about the two of them traveling alone with no definite plans of where they’re going to sleep, and somehow that turns into phone calls on her part that lead to the two of them staying overnight or maybe two nights at the college, under the heading of ‘overnight visit’. 

Puck turns to Finn and whispers, “I guess we shouldn’t mention neither of us will probably apply here?” 

“I want to sleep in a real bed,” Finn whispers back. “Don’t say anything!”

“We’ll make all the girls apply,” Puck says as they follow the woman out of the building to go meet someone. “I think they have Latin American Studies. We’ll ship Santana out here, far far away from everyone.” 

“Works for me,” Finn mutters, more to himself than to Puck.

The woman from the admissions office delivers them to a residence hall, where they’re put in an empty room next to a full room, and Puck flops down onto the bed after they listen to her talk about how it’s highly irregular and not to draw _too_ much attention to themselves and where to turn in the key. 

“I don’t even care that there’s no sheets,” Puck says as soon as the woman leaves. “C’mere.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, crossing to Puck and immediately pulling him close to kiss him. Puck puts his arms around Finn and runs his fingers up through Finn’s hair as they kiss, and he grins. 

“You want dinner tonight?” he asks. 

“We could just eat snacks,” Finn says. “We could stay in here and eat snacks.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we need to leave,” Puck says. “Good answer.” 

“Awesome,” Finn says. “I can’t wait for Colorado.” His face turns a little red after he says it. 

“Yeah.” Puck keeps grinning, a little more widely. “Should we stay in Colorado for a few days?” 

Finn nods. “Unless you don’t like it,” he says, and it’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t mean Colorado.

“Maybe even several days,” Puck says, resting his hand on the back of Finn’s neck. “We should figure out the rest of the summer, make sure we don’t get back too early.” 

“We can do it other places _after_ Colorado, too,” Finn says. Puck can feel the back of Finn’s neck getting hot, and he leans in, kissing Finn again. 

“We’ll do it wherever we want,” Puck says, nodding. “All summer, or all of the rest of it, anyway.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “I think that’ll be really awesome.”

The entire weekend turns out to be pretty awesome. The admissions woman had given them each two passes for a meal in the dining hall, and the dining hall allows seconds, so they load up on food both times they visit, once on Saturday and once on Sunday. Even though something had been said about two nights, there’s no one around on Sunday at all, and they decide to stay very quiet and leave early in the morning, just to get a third night out of sleeping in a real bed. Finn looks more energetic than he has since Arizona, and Puck figures it took the weekend to finally overcome the energy drain that LA had been. The campus is quiet when they drop off the key through the mail slot in the admissions building, and they head east on US–12 with the sun in their eyes.


	34. Montana

By the time a small sign in the middle of the national forest welcomes them to Montana, a good seven or so hours after they left Walla Walla, Puck is certain that a good reason for avoiding the northwest is to avoid ever being in Idaho again. 

“Let’s turn down the next road,” Puck says. “Pull off and make out for awhile, at least.” 

“Yeah, I need a break, and a make out break is the best kind of break,” Finn says, turning onto a small gravel road that seems to lead into a field. 

“This part of the country’s pretty, but we should definitely do Yellowstone. You know why?” Puck says. 

“Why?”

“So we never have to come back to Montana or Idaho or around here again,” Puck says. “Is that… is that a restaurant?” 

“Holy shit, I think it is!” Finn says.

“I guess this is a food _and_ make out break,” Puck says, looking at the banner on the fence. “The Jack.” 

“Awesome,” Finn says. “Both is good.” He keeps driving up to the restaurant, pulling into a spot. 

“Make out first?” Puck says. “Since no one’s out here?” 

Finn laughs as he turns the truck off. “Yeah.”

They stay in the truck for at least twenty minutes or more before they hear anything else, kissing and managing to keep their clothes on, but Finn’s hand is on Puck’s dick, through his shorts, and Puck keeps his hands moving on Finn’s chest and back, under Finn’s t-shirt. When they hear another vehicle approaching, Puck pulls away slowly, one hand still under Finn’s shirt, and he grins. 

“Food now?” 

“Or we could stay in the truck and keep making out,” Finn counters.

“Yeah, but if we stay, we don’t get to have the after-food making out as soon,” Puck says, grinning. 

“After food you’re going to make me start driving again.”

“I promise I’ll jerk you off first,” Puck says solemnly. 

“Deal,” Finn says, “ _if_ we stay stopped long enough for me to jerk you off, too.”

Puck grins. “Yeah, that works,” he says, climbing out of the truck and putting his arm around Finn’s shoulders as they walk into The Jack Saloon. “There are cabins back there. You think they’d let us stay parked for the night?” 

“Maybe. That would rock, because we wouldn’t have to drive anymore at all,” Finn says.

“Yeah, these states are so big,” Puck says. “I know Texas is big, but not like all these places up here.” They head inside, sitting down at the bar, and Puck picks up the menu. “One dollar off burgers today, too.” 

“Sweet!”

“This is the best thing about Montana so far,” Puck says, turning the menu over. “Oh, yeah, awesome. Camping and parking. We don’t have to go anywhere else tonight.” 

“Works for me,” Finn says. “Works a _lot_ for me.”

After their one-dollar-off burgers and a short discussion with the bartender, they pull the truck around the back of the main building, parking near the four small cabins, the truck facing the saloon, and Puck gets out the mosquito netting without setting it up over the entire back of the truck at first. “It’s good no one else is out here, probably,” Puck says. “We can do without the Brokeback jokes.” 

“I actually never saw that movie,” Finn says. “Kurt probably has.”

“There’s two guys and a tent,” Puck says, “but we don’t have a tent.” He lies back, head on his bag, and grins at Finn. “Man, I’m not even tired yet. What are we going to do?” 

“You promised me some making out.”

“Yeah, but now we’re in the back of the truck, so I may not have to limit myself,” Puck says, sitting up enough to take off his t-shirt. He looks at Finn expectantly. “Right?” 

“Right,” Finn says, also sitting up a little and pulling off his shirt before lying back down on their blanket-and-towel pallet. 

Puck doesn’t say anything else, rolling towards Finn and kissing him as Puck puts his arms around Finn. He puts his top leg over Finn’s, pulling him closer, and he moves one hand slowly down Finn’s back as they kiss. Finn pushes his leg between Puck’s, his dick pressing into Puck’s hip. Puck pushes his hip against Finn’s dick, moving his body up just enough for Finn to feel it, and he slides his tongue into Finn’s mouth at the same time. 

Puck’s hand moves from Finn’s back to Finn’s chest, making lazy almost-circles, and Puck moves his hip again. Finn moans against Puck’s mouth, reaching around Puck to grab his ass and squeeze a little as he pulls Puck more tightly against him. Puck moves his hand lower, resting it on Finn’s side just at Finn’s waistband, and he keeps rocking his hips as they kiss.

“Want me to jerk you off now?” Puck whispers, his lips still touching Finn’s. 

“I want— would you blow me?” Finn asks. 

“Yeah,” Puck says, kissing Finn and moving his hands to the waistband of Finn’s shorts, tugging them and Finn’s boxers down. “Duh, yeah, pretty much whenever.” He puts one hand around the bottom of Finn’s dick, then moves his head so he can put his mouth around Finn’s dick. He slides his lips down as quickly as he can, his eyes closing. 

Finn puts his hands on either side of Puck’s head, not really guiding Puck, though Puck knows he will be before he comes. “You should grow your hair out,” Finn says. 

Puck would laugh if he didn’t have his mouth on Finn, but he taps the fingers of his free hand on Finn’s leg, and somewhere in the back of his head he knows he has a lot more attachment to Finn than he does to whatever his hair looks like. He squeezes his hand a little as he moves his mouth lower, then pulls back to run his tongue across the tip of Finn’s dick repeatedly. 

“Shit, Puck, that’s so awesome, you’re so awesome,” Finn says, holding Puck’s head a little more firmly. Puck does it a few more times, then moves his mouth down on Finn again, doing it quickly enough that he does gag just a little before he pulls back. 

“I love that,” Finn says softly, now starting to gently guide Puck’s head with his hands. “I love how you do that.”

Puck opens his eyes for a moment, looking up at Finn’s face before closing them again, and he slides his lips up and back down as fast as he can, his hand squeezing around the base of Finn’s dick and his other hand on Finn’s leg, fingertips barely moving. Finn’s fingers move against the sides of Puck’s head as he pulls it down, thrusting up into Puck’s mouth.

“God, Puck,” Finn says, almost whining it now. “Your mouth. Your mouth.” Puck can tell that Finn’s about to come, and he grins around Finn’s dick, because he _knows_ that, and he moves as fast as he can, his tongue sliding down Finn’s dick. “Oh my god, Puck,” Finn pants, then he _does_ start to come, arching his body up off the truck bed. Puck keeps his mouth on Finn until Finn is completely still and relaxed, and when Puck slowly moves to kiss Finn, he leaves Finn’s shorts down. 

“That’s so fucking awesome,” Puck says, kissing the side of Finn’s neck. 

“ _You’re_ so fucking awesome,” Finn says. “You’re so good at that.”

“You think I could major in that?” Puck asks. “ ‘Blowing Finn’?”

“I’d give you a degree in it,” Finn says, running his hand down Puck’s chest a few times before cupping Puck’s dick through his shorts. 

“Master’s?” Puck says, pushing his dick into Finn’s hand. “Damn, that feels good.” 

“You want me to blow you?” Finn asks.

“Yeah. Or your hand. Your hand and your mouth are both good,” Puck says, kissing Finn’s neck again. 

“You want me to jerk you off?” Finn asks, sliding his hand down the front of Puck’s shorts and curling his fingers around Puck’s dick. “Like this?”

“Maybe with less shorts involved,” Puck says, kissing up Finn’s neck and bringing their lips together. Finn nods, pulling his hand out of Puck’s shorts so he can start tugging them down, past Puck’s hips and to his knees. Puck doesn’t even have a chance to kick them the rest of the way off before Finn’s hand is around him again, already stroking. 

“Better?” Finn asks.

“Yeah, definitely better,” Puck says, his hips jerking a little. 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees, moving his hand faster on Puck’s dick, leaning in to kiss Puck. Puck parts his lips, moving closer to Finn, and puts one hand on Finn’s side. Finn’s tongue pushes into Puck’s mouth, and Finn kisses him hard, not slowing his hand down at all. 

“Fuck, this is just the best summer,” Puck says, a little more loudly than he intends. 

Finn laughs, resting his forehead against Puck’s. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s totally the best summer.” He keeps jerking Puck off, his movements fast, but deliberate, and he starts kissing Puck again. 

Puck pushes forward, into Finn’s hand, and he can feel Finn’s dick getting hard again as they kiss. Finn makes little noises into Puck’s mouth, finally breaking away, breathing heavily.

“We don’t have to wait until Colorado,” Finn says. 

Puck grins, laughing a little. “Yeah, we can wait,” he says. “And we are _not_ Brokebacking it. We don’t have any lube.” 

“We can figure something out,” Finn says, still stroking Puck’s dick.

“No, we won’t,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Plus it’s my ass.” He grins as he says it, his hips jerking forward. 

“Okay,” Finn says. “I really do want to, though.”

“Yeah, I know. Me too.” Puck slides his hand around to Finn’s back, moving closer. “We’ll get some lube in a place that isn’t called The Jack.” 

Finn laughs a little at that. “Okay. You oughta come, though. I like it when you come in my hand.”

“Yeah?” Puck says, kissing Finn again and pushing his dick into Finn’s hand faster a few more times before he comes, his tongue inside Finn’s mouth and his arm wrapping around Finn’s waist as he does. 

He rolls just enough to be mostly on his back before rolling towards Finn again, eyes mostly closed. “Like that?”

“Yeah,” Finn says. Puck can hear him wiping his hand on the beach towels before he puts his arm around Puck. “How many more states?”

“Wyoming,” Puck says. “Yellowstone’s in Montana and Wyoming. Then Colorado.” 

“Maybe we don’t need to spend as much time in Yellowstone as we thought,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, maybe just a day or two,” Puck says. “We’ll take a few pictures. Get some tourists to take some of us together.” 

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Finn says. “We need more pictures of you and me.”

Puck snorts, because that reminds him of Rachel and her wedding video talk, but he nods a few seconds later. “Yeah. Otherwise it’s going to look like one of us went on one half of a road trip and the other went on the other half, from the pictures.” 

“We’ll get some. We’ll start taking some selfies if we have to,” Finn says.

“Watch it, I’ll just start kissing you if you try to take too many selfies,” Puck says. 

“That would be cool, too,” Finn says. “Lots of selfies of us kissing.”

“You just want the lots of kissing.” 

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“Good,” Puck says. “Me too. Maybe we should detour from Kansas, and go back to Austin for another day or two.” 

“Yeah? We could do that,” Finn says. “Get some kissing selfies there, too?”

“Yeah. We’ve got time, you know. Plus that’s after Colorado.” 

“Yeah, Colorado,” Finn says, smiling as he leans forward to kiss Puck. They kiss long enough that they fall asleep for the night in between kisses, and Puck wakes up in the middle of the night just long enough to throw a blanket over them and the mosquito netting over the entire back of the truck. 

The sun wakes them up early, and they head towards Bozeman, getting breakfast at a McDonald’s drive-through in Missoula. They’re an hour into the drive to Bozeman when one of their phones starts ringing, and Puck groans. 

“Who is it this time, you think?”

“Sam, maybe,” Finn guesses. “Maybe Mike.”

“Wish me luck,” Puck says, picking up the phone and answering it, not putting it on speaker just in case it’s Santana again. “Go for Puck.” 

“Are you out of your damn minds?” Mercedes’ voice immediately asks.

“Yellowstone’s nice this time of year, or so they say,” Puck says, “so no, not out of our minds.” 

“Driving across the country by yourselves?” Mercedes continues, like she isn’t even hearing Puck. “And now you two are _dating_?”

“We’re actually headed back east, now,” Puck says. “And Finn doesn’t like that word, and I have to agree with him, because places like the coin laundry and The Jack Saloon are not dates.” 

“So you _are_ out of your minds! Is this some kind of weird mental breakdown codependency thing about starting senior year?” Mercedes asks.

“What?” Puck asks, pulling away to stare at the phone before putting it back to his ear. “What are you talking about? Why is it out of our minds?” 

“Do you really think the middle of a crazy cross-country road trip is the time to get into a relationship with someone?” Mercedes asks. “It’s almost like travel Stockholm Syndrome. Are either of you even gay?”

Puck laughs at that, shaking his head. 

“What?” Finn asks. “Why are you laughing?”

Puck covers the phone with his hand and keeps laughing. “Mercedes asked.” 

Finn starts laughing, too. “What are you telling her?”

Puck shrugs and uncovers the phone. “We knew someone’d ask that,” he tells Mercedes. “Who knows. Gay enough, like Finn says. And when _is_ the right time?” He covers the phone again and looks at Finn. “Should I have asked you to Homecoming instead?” 

“You planning on buying me a corsage?” Finn asks.

“No boobs, no corsage,” Puck says. “I’ll buy you dinner.” 

“What if I _want_ a corsage?”

“I think dude-corsages are those boutonniere things,” Puck says. “Or you could just get a bouquet of daisies.” 

“I don’t even get roses?” Finn asks, sounding fake-outraged. “Maybe I’m changing my mind about Colorado.”

“I like daisies!” 

“Hmph,” Finn says. 

“Excuse me?” Mercedes says loudly. “Will you please pay attention to what I’m saying to you?”

“But you’re being mean,” Puck says. “Not as mean as Santana, which is good. But why are we bad?” 

“I’m not being mean. I’m being rational,” Mercedes insists. 

“Tell her you love me,” Finn says.

“What’s he saying?” Mercedes asks.

“She won’t believe me,” Puck says to Finn. “And why is it rational or irrational, Mercedes? And _yes_ , I know what both of those words mean, and yeah, I love him.” 

“Awww,” Finn says, grinning widely. “You really told her!”

Mercedes suddenly bursts out laughing. “Kurt was right. You’ve got it _bad_.”

“Did you just—” Puck sighs. “I have this distinct feeling that there’s a conspiracy involved. Will you at least tell us who’s going to call next?” 

“I’m pretty sure Tina has the next shift,” Mercedes says, still laughing. 

“Tina in a day or two,” Puck says to Finn. “Oh, but we’re finding colleges for everyone,” he says to Mercedes. “So don’t act surprised about that.” 

“Well, we’ll see about that,” Mercedes says. “You two have fun. Don’t let Finn do anything _too_ crazy.”

Puck grins. “I promise I won’t let him knock me up.” 

“Puck!” Mercedes says. She starts laughing again, and Puck ends the call, still grinning. 

“I don’t think she was actually worried about that,” he says to Finn, trying to sound serious. 

“Do none of these people know that you can’t get pregnant from a blowjob?” Finn asks. “Man. McKinley really does have sucky sex ed.”

“McKinley barely has _any_ sex ed,” Puck says, putting the phone down and putting his hand on Finn’s leg. “You know what we could do, though?” 

“What?”

“After Colorado, we can try _really hard_ and see if you have any luck,” Puck says, laughing. 

“Dude!” Finn says, his face turning red. “Seriously!”

Puck keeps laughing. “It’s probably good we’re not going to major in some kind of science, I guess,” he says. “Do you think you can major in sex? Sex studies?” 

“Probably not,” Finn says. “Probably colleges don’t allow that.”

“That sucks,” Puck says. “Hey, maybe you should major in sex ed, so you can teach people how they can’t get pregnant.”

“I don’t think I want to think that much about how other people have sex. I think I’ll just stick to thinking about you and me, okay?” Finn says.

“Yeah, that works, too.” Puck leaves his hand on Finn’s leg, and the two of them are quiet for a few miles. “Preschool,” Puck says suddenly. “You could teach preschool.” 

“I think I’d scare the kids,” Finn says. He puts his hand on top of Puck’s, covering it completely. “Maybe you should teach preschool.”

“Nah, they’d love you. They’d call you ‘Mr. Finn’ and make you sing ‘Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes’ every day,” Puck says. “I’d have to teach like… middle school boys.” 

“You’d be good at it, though,” Finn says. “You’d always know who was about to get into trouble.”

“Yeah, but I bet not everyone that pushes people into lockers does it for the same reasons I did.” 

“I bet some do, though,” Finn says. His fingers curl around Puck’s. 

“Probably mad about different things.” Puck stretches out his seat belt a little, leaning over against Finn. “So that’s a no on preschool teacher?” 

“It’s not a no. It’s just not a yes.” 

“I’m just saying, they’d probably love Mr. Finn,” Puck says. “The middle school boys would complain about me behind my back.” 

“How does Mr. Puckerman always know when I’m about to draw on Jimmy’s face?” Finn says, in a slightly higher-pitched voice. “It’s like he’s psychic.”

“Then I’d make ’em do push-ups,” Puck says. “Even if I’m not a P.E. teacher.” Puck keeps leaning against Finn, his hand on Finn’s leg still covered by Finn’s hand, and they ride in that position most of the rest of the way to Bozeman.


	35. Wyoming

They get all the way to Old Faithful in the middle of Yellowstone only to find out that the cheapest sleeping there is a seventy-four-dollar a night cabin, which means even more driving to the Grant Village Campground. It’s close to dark by that point, and Puck starts looking through the three pamphlets with their receipt while Finn drives to their designated spot. 

“Bears,” Puck says, picking up one pamphlet and then feeling his eyes widen. “Oh, fuck. Bears.” 

“What about bears?” Finn asks. He leans over to look at the pamphlet. 

“There’s a whole list of stuff not to leave out, because it might attract bears. And _we_ don’t have any of it, but what if someone else does?” Puck says as Finn parks. “We can’t even hide in the coin showers, because those are a mile away!”

“Wait, are you _scared_ of the bears?” Finn asks. 

“Look at this!” Puck says, pulling up a picture of a grizzly bear on Finn’s phone. “Look at that thing!” 

“He’s cute,” Finn says. “He just wants to give you a big hug, Puck!”

“No, he doesn’t!” Puck says. “He wants to rip my face off and eat my leg for dessert.” 

“You’re seriously scared of the bears?” Finn asks. “I thought you weren’t scared of anything.”

“Until what, a month ago? I’d never been west of the Mississippi,” Puck says. “I don’t want to get eaten by a bear.” He shudders and climbs out of the truck anyway, looking around suspiciously as he sets up their bed in the back of the truck. 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Finn says, in this tone of voice like he’s in _Grease_. “I’ll keep you safe from those nasty old bears.”

“Yeah, with what?” Puck says with a grumble as he settles against the towels and blanket. “Mosquito netting?” 

“I’ll punch him in the nose while you hide,” Finn says, reaching over and grabbing Puck’s ass. “Shit! I think it’s a bear!”

“Asshole,” Puck says, swatting at Finn’s hand. “Do you not realize that bear I showed you is taller than you?” 

Finn shrugs. “I just don’t think the bear wants to mess with us,” he says. “I think we’ll be okay. We can sleep in the cab if it’ll make you feel safer, though.”

“They probably can open doors,” Puck says with a sigh, rolling towards Finn and half-closing his eyes. “It’s good we’re not staying an entire week.” 

Finn drapes his arm over Puck, moving closer and kissing him. “Want me to stay awake and listen for bears?” he asks.

“No, just let the bear eat me first,” Puck says. “That way I won’t know any better.” 

“I won’t let the bears eat you,” Finn says, kissing Puck again, harder this time.

“I’m never coming back to Wyoming,” Puck says, putting his arms around Finn. “I changed my mind. We’re sending Santana here, so she can get eaten.” 

“I think it’s more like Santana would eat the bear,” Finn says.

“Give the poor thing indigestion,” Puck says with a sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. Washington it is for her.” He shudders a little. “I still say I’m not coming back to Wyoming. You can if you want to.” 

“Why would I want to go anywhere without you?” Finn asks softly, pulling Puck in closer. “And you’d better not go anywhere without me.”

“Where would I go?” Puck asks. “It’s just us. I’ll go where you go. Except for grizzly bear tours.” 

“Not just today, or this year, or in college,” Finn says. “Don’t go without me, even if it seems like stuff is bad, okay? I’ll always try to fix it.”

“I know. But I mean it. Where would I go?” Puck says. “If you said, let’s never go back to Lima, I’d just say okay.” 

“Okay,” Finn says. He takes a deep breath in, then exhales in a long, slow sigh.

“What is it?” Puck says, nudging Finn’s side gently. 

“I haven’t ever felt like this about anybody,” Finn says. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here with me.”

“Wait on me to get back from the bathroom, ’cause that’d be the only reason I wouldn’t be right here,” Puck says, mostly not joking. “We’ll be together. In Texas or wherever, and after that, too.” 

“Just, you know. My dad probably thought that, too, but one day he didn’t come home, either,” Finn says.

“Then I’ll make sure I don’t major in anything dangerous,” Puck says. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Finn whispers. He presses his lips to Puck’s forehead, breathing quietly. Puck realizes a few minutes later that Finn’s asleep, and Puck closes his own eyes, listening to Finn’s soft breathes as he falls asleep, too. 

After two days of driving and hiking around Yellowstone, Puck and Finn spend the early evening of their third and last night there doing laundry and taking coin showers before heading back to their assigned campground slot, and Puck doesn’t bother to put on anything but a pair of shorts and flip-flops for the walk back. He reaches for Finn’s hand as they head down the road towards the rest of the campground, squeezing it a little. 

“A lot of driving tomorrow,” Puck says with a grin. “We’ll have to do a little shopping before we leave Laramie.” 

“Yeah?” Finn asks.

“Just some lube,” Puck says. “Unless you wanted to be adventurous right away.” 

Finn’s face turns red and he shakes his head. “One thing at a time, maybe?”

Puck grins and squeezes Finn’s hand again. “Yeah. We going to splurge on a motel tomorrow night?” 

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Finn says. “A real bed and a real bathroom.”

“We haven’t really asked my mom for much money. I can see if she’ll wire us enough for at least two nights,” Puck says. “That way we don’t have to set an alarm or anything.” 

“Awesome,” Finn says. He runs his thumb along the side of Puck’s hand, smiling slightly.

Puck grins. “I love you.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “I love you.”

“Let’s get some sleep,” Puck says. “So we can get up early, get to Laramie, and leave Laramie.”

“Yeah. Sounds like a plan,” Finn says.


	36. Colorado

Nine hours after leaving Yellowstone, the truck is finally approaching Fort Collins, Colorado, which was by far the closest destination inside Colorado from Laramie, and Puck directs Finn around two final turns before he spots the cluster of motels they have to choose from. 

“Yeah, let’s splurge on La Quinta over Motel 6,” Puck says, grinning over at Finn. 

“Cool, yeah,” Finn says. “It looks less seedy.”

“It’s got a pool and an exercise center,” Puck reads off the sign as they pull in. “I’m sure we’ll make use of those, right?” 

“Yeah, definitely,” Finn says, then he makes a scrunched up face. “If you get bored, you could, I guess.”

Puck snorts. “I don’t think that’s happening. We’ll probably be lucky to make it to the continental breakfast.” 

“We can get fast food or something.”

“Or we can load up at the vending machines before we lock the door tonight,” Puck says as the truck stops. “Want me to run in and get a room?”

“Yeah. Cool.”

Puck leans over and kisses Finn before climbing out the truck and heading inside. He asks for the nightly rate first, then figures out that the money his mom wired will cover three full nights, so that’s what he pays for, getting two keys for a second floor room with a king-size bed. Puck walks back out and waits in front of the truck, because they’re actually parked in a good spot for their room. 

“Right up there,” he says to Finn, motioning with the key card in his hand. 

“Cool. Okay, yeah,” Finn says. He gets out of the truck and follows Puck up to the room. 

Puck doesn't actually stop at the vending machines, but he does lock the door behind them as soon as they're inside, and pulls the curtains closed, too. "You sure about this?" he teases.

“Yeah,” Finn says. His voice is a little bit higher than normal, or maybe a little breathier, and he sits down on the edge of the bed, his hands palms-down on his knees. “So, here we are.”

"Finally in Colorado," Puck says, taking off his shirt and then sitting down beside Finn. "Before I start kissing you, you got any questions?"

“Will you tell me if I’m not doing it right?” Finn asks. “Any of it. Like, if it sucks, don’t just let it keep on sucking, okay?”

"Okay," Puck says with a shrug, even though he's hoping that's not even close to necessary. "Anything else?"

“Just… I love you, okay?” Finn says. 

"Not really a question," Puck says, grinning again. "I love you too."

“Cool,” Finn says. “So you should kiss me now, okay?”

Puck doesn't answer, instead leaning forward and kissing Finn, his arms sliding around Finn's shoulders. One of Finn’s hands moves slowly down Puck’s chest, stopping at the waistband of his shorts. Puck parts his lips slowly, running his tongue along Finn’s lower lip, and he pulls ineffectually at the top of Finn’s t-shirt. Finn starts to yank up his shirt, breaking the kiss to pull it over his head. 

Puck grabs Finn again as soon as the shirt is off, kissing him and running his hands down and up Finn’s chest repeatedly. Finn does the same to Puck, touching him all over his chest, his sides, and his back. Puck slides one hand lower, pressing his flat palm against Finn’s dick, and the fingers of his other hand clench a little on Finn’s shoulder. 

Finn keeps touching Puck, finally moving his hands to the waistband of Puck’s shorts again, tugging on them. Puck grins against Finn’s mouth, lifting his hips and leaning more of his weight on Finn. Finn only has to tug on the shorts two times to get them down to Puck’s knees so Puck can kick them off, and then Finn’s hand wraps around Puck’s dick. 

Puck pushes forward into Finn’s hand, his own hand still flat and pressing against Finn’s dick, and Puck settles back down on the bed, moving his other hand to Finn’s shorts and pulling at the waistband. Finn hooks his thumb in the side of the waistband, helping Puck pull the shorts off. 

“Better,” Puck says, putting his hand back on Finn’s dick and curling his fingers around it. 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “A lot better.”

Puck slowly strokes Finn’s dick, kissing him at the same time, and he keeps his other hand still, pressed against Finn’s chest. Finn’s hand starts moving on Puck’s dick, too, as Finn kisses back, sliding his tongue along Puck’s. Puck shifts his position on the bed, slowly leaning back and pulling Finn with him. As Puck’s back hits the mattress, Finn lies half on top of him. 

“Yeah, I’m glad we waited for a mattress,” Puck says with a small grin, shifting his hand from Finn’s chest to the back of Finn’s neck.

“Me, too,” Finn says, smiling down at Puck for a second before dipping his head to the side of Puck’s neck, kissing down the side to Puck’s shoulder. Puck moves his hand on Finn’s dick just a little faster, his hand tightening on it almost involuntarily. Finn keeps kissing Puck’s shoulder, then shifts so he can kiss Puck’s chest. 

Puck runs his hand up through Finn’s hair, wiggling and trying not to laugh. “That tickles!” 

Finn lifts his head and grins at Puck. “Good,” he says, before lowering his head and kissing farther down Puck’s chest. 

“Ass,” Puck says, grinning at Finn as he says it. “You’re going to feel funny if I accidentally kick your leg ’cause you’re tickling me.” 

“Nah, you wouldn’t do that,” Finn says, now moving too far down for Puck to keep touching his dick. He kisses Puck’s stomach and then just barely brushes his lips against the head of Puck’s dick.

“I might accidentally!” Puck says, then shakes his head. “Or on purpose if you keep doing that.” He tugs on Finn’s hair, putting his other hand on Finn’s head, too. “Is this some new torture plan?”

“Maybe,” Finn admits. He flicks his tongue against Puck’s dick a few times, then lightly wraps his lips around the tip, tongue still flickering. 

“Well, it’s working,” Puck says, thrusting his hips up. “You’re such an asshole. I love you.” 

Finn’s eyes scrunch up like he’s smiling, and he finally _really_ takes Puck’s dick into his mouth, his hands moving to grip Puck’s hips. Puck shakes his head and thrusts up again, both hands holding onto Finn’s head. Finn responds by moving his mouth faster, his tongue stroking along the shaft as his head bobs up and down. 

“You’re going to have to stop that if you don’t want me to come,” Puck says, his hips moving with Finn’s mouth. 

Finn lifts his head off Puck’s dick. “I want you to be relaxed. I Googled!”

“There’s part of me that’s very _not_ relaxed,” Puck says with a grin. “And I wondered what you were doing when I went in to Montana State.” 

“I thought maybe if I made you come first,” Finn says, shrugging a little. “Do you want me to?”

“I’m not going to turn down coming twice,” Puck says, running his fingers through Finn’s hair again. 

“Okay, cool,” Finn says, letting his head drop again, his mouth sliding down Puck’s dick again. 

“Plus, I love your mouth,” Puck says, thrusting up into Finn’s mouth again as his fingers pull at Finn’s hair. “You’re so hot.” 

Finn hums some kind of response, sucking harder and faster. Puck closes his eyes, his fingers relaxing a little as he just holds onto Finn’s head, his hips the only part of him moving, and he bites down on his lip as he starts to come, his hips still thrusting up almost automatically. Finn swallows around him, his tongue still moving until Puck’s hips settle back against the bed.

“Relaxed now?” Finn asks. 

Puck grins. “Yeah, I’m pretty relaxed,” he says. “Bet you aren’t.” 

“I’m, uh. No, not really,” Finn says.

“We should do something about that.” 

“Yeah?” Finn asks. “I think I should do some of the stuff from Google.”

“Yeah? What’d Google tell you?” 

Finn’s face turns a little red. “I need to prep you. That means I’m supposed to use my fingers on you, if that’s cool.”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Puck says. “You want me to stay like this?”

“Yeah, I think so. I think that’ll work,” Finn says. “Where’d the bag with the lube go?”

“On that table,” Puck says, gesturing towards the provided ‘work desk’. 

“Cool.” Finn gets up and rifles through the bag for a few seconds, then sits back down with the bottle of lube. “Okay. Just tell me what you think and stuff, okay?”

“Okay. It’s cool. It’s going to be awesome,” Puck says.

Finn nods, then flips open the lid to the lube bottle and pours some of it onto his fingers. “Maybe pull your legs up a little?”

Puck bends his legs up, spreading them slightly, and nods, his eyes going between Finn’s face and Finn’s fingers. Finn’s face is still a little flushed as he touches one fingertip to Puck’s hole, tracing around it before pushing inside to what feels like the first knuckle. Puck wiggles a little, then nods again at Finn. 

“I’ve kind of managed about that much on my own,” he admits. 

“Cool. My fingers are a lot bigger, though,” Finn says. He pushes a little deeper, watching Puck’s face. 

“Yeah. Not a bad thing,” Puck says, rocking his hips experimentally. Finn nods and slides his finger in even deeper. 

“Tell me what’s cool and what’s not,” Finn says.

“Pretty much everything so far is cool,” Puck says. “Is it cool for _you_?”

“Yeah,” Finn says. “I just want to make it really good for you.” He slides his finger out slightly, then pushes it back in deeper, feeling like he’s bending it slightly.

“You sure?” Puck says teasingly. “You can probably add another finger.” He rocks his hips up again, moving his legs at the same time, and it feels like that makes Finn’s finger go in deeper, or at least changes the angle somehow. 

“Okay,” Finn says. He pulls his finger mostly out, then squirts more lube onto his hand before slowly pushing two finger into Puck’s hole. “Is it cool?”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Puck says, and he keeps his hips rocking slowly. “Kind of hard to explain how it feels.” 

“It looks really cool,” Finn says. He looks down at where his fingers are sliding into Puck. “Sexy.”

“Yeah?” Puck says. “You going to watch like that when it’s your dick?”

“Maybe,” Finn says, pushing his fingers in deep and kind of wiggling them a little, pressing up at a few different angles.

“Yeah,” Puck says, pushing his hips against Finn’s fingers as they move. “That’s good.” 

Finn responds with a little smile. “You’re getting hard again,” he says. “It’s really hot.”

“Well, yeah,” Puck says. “Your fingers are pretty much fucking me, and you’re going to be fucking me, and all of that’s pretty awesome.” 

“Shit, Puck,” Finn says quietly. He moves his fingers in and out of Puck a little more deliberately, like he really is trying to fuck Puck with them. 

Puck grins a little. “Maybe… maybe we’ve done enough fingers for now,” he says. 

“No, I have to make sure you’re really relaxed,” Finn insists, and he withdraws his fingers again, adding more lube. When he starts to push his fingers back into Puck’s hole, he’s using three this time, and Puck can feel a little bit of a burning feeling as his hole stretches a little more. 

“Come on,” he half-whines. 

“Just a little longer,” Finn says. He presses up with his fingers inside Puck, curling the tips as he moves his hand. 

“I’m going to go with what I said earlier,” Puck says, rocking his hips more deliberately. “You’re such an asshole.” 

“Yeah, I love you, too,” Finn says. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah, but I swear, I’m relaxed.” 

“I just want to make you feel so good, Puck,” Finn says. 

“Maybe whatever you Googled is too cautious,” Puck counters. “You should fuck me now. Not with your fingers.” 

“I don’t want to mess it up,” Finn says. “I want it to be awesome.”

“Yeah, I know, but come on,” Puck says. “It’ll be awesome, and then we’ll do it again, and it’ll be even awesomer.” 

“Okay,” Finn says, slowly pulling his fingers out of Puck and giving them a halfhearted wipe on the bedspread. “Did you have a way you wanted to do it? Should I just, I dunno. Start kissing you and see what happens?”

“Not on our sides,” Puck says. “I was thinking maybe I’d flip over. If that works for you.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be awesome,” Finn says, but he does still lean close to Puck and kiss him deeply first. Puck rolls onto his stomach, then grins at Finn over his shoulder. 

“Nice view?”

“Yeah,” Finn says. His eyes travel up and down Puck’s body. “You’re so hot.” He runs his non-lubed hand down Puck’s back and over his ass, pushing Puck’s left leg up towards Puck’s chest a little. 

“Yeah?” Puck turns his head a few times, finding a comfortable position, then moves his leg up a little more. “This good?” 

“Oh yeah,” Finn says. “Perfect.” His hand moves back to Puck’s ass, squeezing it, then Puck can hear Finn pouring more lube into his hand. Finn returns his hand to Puck’s ass, spreading him open this time. The head of his dick presses against Puck’s hole, and then Finn leans forward, pushing into Puck as he leans his chest against Puck’s back.

“Oh, fuck,” Puck says quietly, his body straining a little, like it’s trying to push back into Finn somehow. “Yeah. Like that.” 

More of Finn’s dick pushes into Puck, Finn’s hand still gripping Puck’s ass and holding him open. Each time Puck thinks that Finn is probably completely inside him, more slides in, and Puck reminds himself that Finn’s not exactly small. Puck closes his eyes, listening to Finn’s breathing. 

When Finn finally is completely inside Puck, he stops moving, pressing his chest against Puck’s back, draping himself over Puck. “I’m inside you,” Finn says softly. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you too,” Puck says. “Fuck, you feel even bigger than you do in my mouth, you know.” 

“Is it bad? Am I hurting you?” Finn asks, sounding suddenly worried. 

“Uh, no, not bad,” Puck says. “This is awesome.” 

“Okay. Good.” Finn kisses the back of Puck’s neck, slowly rocking his hips back so his dick slides out a tiny amount before pushing back in. “Oh, shit, Puck.”

“Yeah, you should do that,” Puck says, pushing his hips back a little. “You should move now.” 

“Yeah,” Finn agrees, pulling out farther and then thrusting back in, letting out a little gaspy whine. Puck feels like his entire body is somehow on edge and relaxed at the same time, and he moves a little underneath Finn. 

“Oh, fuck,” Puck says, louder than he means to be. “Shit, Finn, this feels so good.” Finn inside him and over him and the almost-burning every time Finn moves all feel awesome, and Puck rocks against the bed a little, his dick definitely completely hard again. 

“Yeah,” Finn says, moving a little faster. “Don’t think I can do this for too long.”

“No, you have to keep doing it,” Puck says, and it’s definitely a little whiny. 

“It feels too good,” Finn says. He sounds whiny, too, as he thrusts harder into Puck’s ass.

“Don’t stop,” Puck says, pushing his hand between his body and the mattress enough to grab his dick and start stroking it. “Keep fucking me.” 

“I’m not gonna _stop_ , I’m gonna _come_ ,” Finn says. “It feels so good, I just want to make you feel good.”

“Yeah, you’re going to come,” Puck says, moving his hand faster. “You’re going to come in my ass.” 

“Puck,” Finn whines. His thrusts get faster and a little shallower, moving erratically. 

“Feels so awesome,” Puck says, the entire bed moving with them, and he tightens his fingers around his dick. 

“ _You_ feel so awesome,” Finn says. “I can’t— it’s just too— shit, Puck, I’m gonna come.” Finn’s chest presses against Puck’s back, his mouth on the side of Puck’s neck, and he thrusts harder into Puck a few times, gasping and crying out. Puck stops moving his hips, his eyes still closed, and he moves his hand on his dick as fast as he can until he comes for a second time, onto his hand and chest and the bed. 

“Told you it’d be awesome,” Puck mumbles.

Finn kisses the side of Puck’s neck again, nuzzling Puck’s ear. “Yeah. It was so awesome.”

“You know what’d be really awesome?” 

“What?”

“Waiting like… twenty minutes, and doing it again,” Puck says, grinning even though he’s not sure Finn can see his face clearly. 

“Mmm, yeah,” Finn says. “Want to take a fifteen minute nap?”

“Yeah. We’ll just fuck and nap tonight,” Puck says. “Instead of sleeping for a long time.” 

“Cool,” Finn says. He curls his body around Puck’s without rolling off Puck’s back, slipping out of him. “So, um. Did you want to do _me_?”

“Mmmm, do you want me to?” Puck asks. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t.” 

“No, I do, I do,” Finn says. He wraps his arm around Puck’s chest, rolling them both slightly onto their sides.

“North Dakota,” Puck says after a minute or two. “It’ll be the only interesting thing to happen in North Dakota all year.” 

“You don’t want to do it here?”

“Nah, I’m being selfish,” Puck says, scooting back to press closer to Finn. 

“Oh yeah?” Finn asks. “How’s that?”

“Making you focus on me for the weekend,” Puck says. “Speaking of that, what’s it been? Five minutes? Ten?”

“Six or seven, maybe?”

“Too bad,” Puck says. “Any special requests for round two?” 

“To last longer than five minutes?” Finn says. “Does that count?”

“Not sure _I_ can do anything about that one. Any requests for me?” 

“Can we try it with you on your back?” Finn asks. “It’d be cool to see your face.”

“Sure,” Puck says. “If you get tired after that, you could lie down and let me do the work once.” 

Finn laughs, and Puck feels it vibrating through his back. “Yeah,” Finn says. “That sounds awesome, too.”

“Yeah.” Puck shifts backwards deliberately. “You want to fuck me again now?” 

Finn’s dick presses against Puck’s ass, already hard. “Yeah. I really do.”

They do pretty much exactly as Puck had suggested, napping and fucking until late, sleeping until mid-Saturday morning, and spending most of Saturday during the day and at night naked in the motel room. When the phone rings around nine on Sunday morning, they’re both still in bed, and Puck barely lifts his arm, lying half on the bed and half on top of Finn, to answer it. 

“Not now, Tina,” he says instead of hello or anything else. 

“Put Finn on the phone,” says the voice that is definitely _not_ Tina.

“He’s asleep,” Puck says, frowning, because he’s pretty sure that it’s Burt, and he doesn’t really want to wake Finn up only to ambush him with a Burt phone call. 

“Look, I think this has gone on long enough,” Burt says. “It’s time for you two to come home.”

Puck keeps frowning. “We’ve still got a bunch of states to go,” he says. “And it’s super-educational.” 

“It’s racking up a thousand-dollar gas card bill, is what it’s doing!” Burt says.

“Gas costs more in some states,” Puck says. “We’re safe and everything.” 

“You boys have been gone five weeks. This is getting ridiculous,” Burt says. “You tell Finn that the two of you are heading back to Ohio right now. Which state are you even in?”

“Baja California,” Puck says, maybe a little too flippantly. “I’ll tell him you called.” 

“Don’t you hang up this phone!” Burt says, sounding angry. “You tell Finn—” Puck hangs up before Burt can demand that Puck tell Finn anything else, and after the call ends, he turns off the phone as well. He puts it down, then picks up his and sends his mom his weekly text before turning it off for good measure. 

“We’re not going back yet,” he says to himself. 

“Hmm?” Finn mumbles, shifting position. “D’you say something?”

“I love you,” Puck says, dropping his head back down. “You want a blowjob, or you want to sleep more?” 

“Both?”

Puck laughs. “Want me to blow you to sleep?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says sleepily. “Awesome.”


	37. Kansas

Puck waits until they’re well on the seven-hour drive to Wichita on Tuesday morning, after two more nights in Colorado including a quick visit to Colorado College, to bring up the fact that Burt even called. The way Puck sees it, Burt calling isn’t the same as if Carole called, and when Puck had briefly turned on their phones the night before, Carole hadn’t left a message. 

“So Sunday morning, Burt called,” Puck says as they pass a sign for Colby, Kansas. 

“Oh, yeah? What’d he want?”

“He wanted to complain about the balance on the gas card, mostly,” Puck says. “Blah blah, we should come home right now. I told him we were in Baja California.”

“Why?” Finn asks. “Was he pissed?”

“Apparently this has ‘gone on long enough’ and he thinks it’s ridiculous,” Puck says. “He wanted me to put you on the phone at first, but I told him you were asleep.” 

“Oh. Did my mom say anything?”

“Your mom wasn’t even on the call. Hasn’t called or left a message, either, so that’s why I ignored him,” Puck says. “I told him it was educational, but he just yelled more.” 

“Okay, well, as long as my mom isn’t upset,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Puck says. “But we should keep our phones turned off most of the time, so he can’t find us that way.” 

“Yeah, makes sense,” Finn says. “I don’t want to go back yet.”

“What would we do if we went back? I mean, I guess we could play some Mario, but why’s he care?” Puck asks. 

“I guess we could get jobs and pay off the gas card?”

“Yeah, but I bet if we give your mom enough time to talk him out of it, we won’t have to pay it all off,” Puck says. “Oh, but I thought of something.” 

“What?”

“If we _did_ both teach, you know what we’d have off every year?” 

“Summer!” Finn says. “Yeah, that’s right!”

“We could roadtrip every summer,” Puck says. “Maybe get a real tent and one of those camp stoves we saw at the campground in Yellowstone, and an air mattress.” 

“Cool. Yeah.” Finn grins. “I like it.”

“So if you don’t like preschool, which is too bad, because I think they’d love you doing ‘I’m a Little Teapot’, too, you have to pick some other age group,” Puck says. 

“I’ll think about it,” Finn says. 

“Maybe not high school, though,” Puck says. “All the high schools girls would get crushes on you.” 

“On _you_ , you mean,” Finn says. 

“Uh, no, on you,” Puck says, shaking his head. “They’d just try to get their boyfriends out of detention if it were me.” 

“Okay, the detention part’s probably true,” Finn says, “but they’d just try to get out of doing homework for me.”

“Well, yeah,” Puck says, “but they’d do that anyway. They’d try to get away without doing homework _and_ have crushes on you.” 

“Maybe no high school, then,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” Puck says. “No high school for either of us. One age group down.”


	38. Missouri

Two more days in Austin breaks up the driving nicely, including another visit over the UT Austin campus, and after another long drive, Finn and Puck wake up near Columbia College in Missouri on Sunday morning, at the unfortunately named Katfish Katy campground. 

“It’s been a week since Burt called,” Puck says. “You think we should leave our phones on for an hour or two while we check out the college and head back over to I–29?” 

“Sure,” Finn says. “Just check before we answer.”

“Yeah, if it’s Burt, we don’t answer, and we turn them off,” Puck says. “So I think maybe this school’d be good for Artie.” 

“Yeah?”

“They have a forensic science program. Don’t you think he’d be good at that CSI shit?” 

“Yeah, plus he’d look cool in a white lab coat,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Puck says, tossing the rest of the stuff in the truck and climbing in the passenger seat. Phones turned on, they drive towards Columbia College and take a picture, along with the flier from the lobby that’s unlocked, and they’re already driving back towards Kansas City and I–29 when the phone rings. 

Puck glances down, and the caller really does appear to be Tina, so he answers the phone, putting it on speaker. “Hi, Tina.” 

“I’m not Tina,” Mike’s voice says cheerfully. “Am I on speaker?” 

“Yeah, hey, Mike,” Finn says.

“Hey, Finn. So where are you two sending me to college?” Mike asks. 

“Not UCLA,” Puck says. “We’re only sending people we hate to UCLA.” 

“LA sucks, dude,” Finn says. “For real.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mike says. “Tina said I have to ask you questions, Finn.” 

“Uh oh,” Finn says.

“Yeah, there’s a list, but I edited some out. One of them was weird enough that I kept it on there. It says, ‘how gay is gay enough?’”

“Pretty gay,” Finn says. “I mean, like, for practical purposes. Gay enough so you’d notice.”

Mike laughs. “Practical purposes, I like that. _I_ had a question, though. How’d you convince your mom not to freak out about a roadtrip? You too, Puck.”

“My mom just wants texts,” Puck says. “Even sending me some money, it’s cheaper than feeding me all summer.” 

“I kinda didn’t tell my mom it would last this long,” Finn says.

“Bait and switch, I like it. Isn’t she glad you’re looking at colleges, though?” Mike says. 

“Yeah, she seems to,” Finn says. “Burt’s kind of pissed about the gas card having so much money put on it.”

“Well, does he want you to be stuck somewhere?” Mike says with a laugh. “So we won’t see you back in Lima until school starts?” 

“That’s the plan,” Puck says. “Assuming Burt doesn’t get too worked up.” 

“Cool. Post some cool pictures on Facebook or something,” Mike says. 

“Will do,” Puck says. “Later, Mike.” He ends the call and looks over at Finn. “We should figure out how to time it so that we get back to Lima two days before school starts.” 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Finn says. “It’s weird to think about being back.”

“Yeah. I definitely want to do this again next summer. Maybe we can do Alaska at winter break or spring break.” 

“That would rock,” Finn says. “Forty-nine out of fifty.”

“Hawaii’ll take a little longer.”


	39. Nebraska

“I actually like the recreation area,” Puck says when they wake up on Monday morning in Omaha. “If we weren’t in Nebraska, I’d say we should stay here another night. Free camping.” 

“Yeah, but we’ve still got places to be,” Finn says.

“Yeah? You looking forward to the Upper Peninsula?” Puck teases, folding up the mosquito netting. “We’ll need this stuff there for sure.” 

“Yeah. That’s definitely it,” Finn says. “Definitely the U.P.”

“Oh, no, that’s right, it was South Dakota, right? For Mount Rushmore?”

“That’s in South Dakota? Huh.”

“Well, damn, what is it?” Puck asks, climbing into the truck. 

“You _know_ what it is!” Finn says.

Puck laughs. “Yeah, I know what it is,” he concedes. “You want me to get some cash from my mom again? I bet North Dakota motels are even cheaper.” 

“Yeah, probably not a bad idea,” Finn says. “The real bed was nice.”

“Exactly,” Puck says. “If I don’t tell her where we are, she might send enough for four or five days. It’d be a little weird to stay in North Dakota that long, but it’s not like anyone’s going to really go to school in North Dakota, or that we’d be back in the same city to be remembered.”

“Yeah. We don’t need to come back, though, so we’re cool,” Finn says.

“Yeah, exactly. But that’s still two states away after this one,” Puck says. “Creighton’s some kind of religious school. Justice and peace studies, though. We should send Quinn here.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’d be great for her,” Finn says. 

“Too bad we can’t work in a high school, we really are good at this,” Puck says as Finn starts the truck and they head towards Creighton. “Maybe you should just teach middle school, like me.” 

“Yeah? What should I teach, do you think?” Finn asks. “Like history or something?”

“Oh, shit, I have to teach a subject, don’t I?” Puck shakes his head. “I hadn’t gotten that far. Yeah, maybe history. I don’t think you should teach math.” 

“You could teach math, though,” Finn says.

“I’d really get a chance to assign detentions, then,” Puck says. “And then in the summers people’d be like, what do you two do? And we’d tell ’em we teach math and history and they’d be surprised.” 

“We could coach, too,” Finn says. “They have sports at middle schools. We could coach the little kid football or something.”

“Oh, yeah, we’d be awesome at that,” Puck says. “We could do something in the spring, too. Baseball or track or something.” 

“We could be club sponsors, even. Like glee club junior.”

Puck grins. “Are we going to make all the football kids sing?”

Finn laughs. “We should.” He shakes his head and adds, “I think you actually did manage to talk me into the teaching thing for real.”

“It was the summers, wasn’t it?” Puck says. “Road trip every summer.” 

“Definitely.”


	40. Iowa

“I think that’s the least amount of driving we’ve had to get to another state since Maryland or something,” Puck says as they settle into their camping slot outside Sioux City. “And we’re at the end of the row of campgrounds.”

“Nice. Won’t have to worry about bothering anybody,” Finn says. “Not that we worried too much.”

“Well, yeah, but we can _pretend_ to care about how loud we are,” Puck says, stripping off his t-shirt before fixing the mosquito netting and lying down on the blanket. He looks over at Finn and grins. “It’s good we have an evening routine.” 

“It’ll be weird to not have to spread out mosquito netting at bedtime,” Finn says, pulling off his shirt, too.

“Do you think we’ll get weirdly turned on by mosquito netting?” Puck says. “Like if we see some somewhere in September?” 

“Oh for sure,” Finn says. “It’ll be totally embarrassing.”

Puck grins. “Unless we’re both there, which we should be, in which case we just leave and find a bathroom or something.” 

“Works for me,” Finn says. They spend the night like they have every night since Colorado, quietly fucking, and even though they’re not far from North Dakota now, they stay at the same campground a second night, mainly for the cheapness of eleven dollars a night and the chance to shower again.


	41. South Dakota

“Augustana College flier in the stack with all the others,” Puck says as Finn starts the truck again. “I don’t think we can send anyone to South Dakota, either.” 

“It doesn’t really have very much,” Finn says.

“It has I–29 going up its eastern edge,” Puck says. “Taking us to North Dakota. Oh, and Mount Rushmore.” 

“Awesome.”

“And maybe those Little House books. Something about Dakotas and blizzards.” Puck grins. “You’ll have to learn that if you’re going to teach history.” 

“Little House isn’t history. It’s reading,” Finn says.

“I’m pretty sure it’s stuff that really happened, though,” Puck says. “Otherwise, why would the author name everyone after her and her family?” 

“Oh yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

“We can look it up sometime, I guess,” Puck says as they get back on I–29. “After North Dakota.”


	42. North Dakota

“Hankinson,” Puck reads off the sign announcing an exit in a mile. “That’s where we’re going to find a motel.” 

“Oh yeah?” Finn asks. 

“Well, it’s the first exit since that casino just over the line,” Puck says. “It should be cheap out here. Four or five nights, even.” 

“You think you’ll want that many nights?” Finn asks, smiling without looking over at Puck.

“I think it’d be awfully rude of me to tell you just one night,” Puck says, grinning as they reach the exit. “So the more nights, I must be super-polite. Oh there we go. Hotcakes Cafe _and_ Lodging.” 

“Hey, I found where the lost socks all go!” Finn announces, as they turn off the exit and towards the Hotcakes Cafe.

“Yeah? North Dakota?”

“No. Look,” Finn says, pointing to a big sign that advertises the Lost Sock Laundromat. 

Puck laughs. “Okay, so if we stop to eat, we can do some laundry, too,” he says. “Drop me off at the front, I’ll get us a room.” 

“Good,” Finn says. “Sooner is better than later.” 

Puck grins at Finn, then looks over his shoulder to grin at him again as Puck opens the door to the front of the ‘Cafe’, since it seems to be the ‘Lodging’ office as well. A server takes him to a manager who turns out to be the owner, too, and Puck pays for five nights for less than they paid for three nights in Colorado, getting a physical key instead of keycards. Puck does get two to-go coffees, balancing them as he heads back to the truck. 

“Caffeine,” he says with a grin. “We’re the door on the end. Number seven.”

“Cool,” Finn says. 

“I got us five nights,” Puck says as he climbs into the truck for Finn to move it down to their room. “And some cash leftover.” 

“So we can eat at the cafe and not have to go far for food,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, basically,” Puck says as they park and climb back out. “And they exchange for quarters at the Lost Sock. I think Lost Sock sounds almost like a legitimate thing, instead of coin laundry.” 

“Yeah, it sounds almost like a cool place to hang out,” Finn says.

Puck unlocks the door to the room and flips on the light. “Well, it’s… clean,” he says. “Clean and doesn’t smell bad. And small.” 

“It’s got a lot of flowers, too,” Finn says. “Wow. That’s, like, a _lot_ of flowers.”

“It looks like the pictures of Nana’s living room when Mom was, like, ten,” Puck says, shaking his head. “I think they haven’t redecorated since the 80s.”

“Wow,” Finn says again, looking around the room as he sits down on the bed.

Puck closes and locks the door, dumping their stuff on the floor and in the single chair in the room. “I guess that’s why it’s so cheap,” he says with a snort. “We’re definitely getting a tent and an air mattress before next summer.” 

“Yeah. We’ll make sure it’s the kind you can plug the air pump into the cigarette lighter,” Finn says. 

“And no floral,” Puck says, sitting down beside Finn. “Maybe a bright orange tent so no hunters shoot it.” 

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea, even if a tent doesn’t really look like a deer or anything,” Finn says.

“You aren’t _that_ much shorter than a bear,” Puck says with a grin, shifting so he’s sitting mostly behind Finn, his arms around Finn’s waist and sliding up under Finn’s t-shirt. “Luckily you haven’t tried to eat me.” 

“I have kind of a little bit,” Finn says.

“Okay, no permanent loss of limb or anything,” Puck says, kissing the back of Finn’s neck. “I told you about my brief neck obsession, right?” 

“The hickey thing? Yeah.”

“I was young,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Unless you were secretly dying to look like you were a puppy.” 

“Nope. Not so much,” Finn says. “That feels nice, though.”

“Yeah, you’re not as ticklish as me,” Puck says, moving his mouth just slightly to the right. “We should have that pet discussion again sometime. Just no bats.” 

“No bats,” Finn agrees. He tilts his head, exposing more of his neck to Puck. 

“Maybe a dog,” Puck says between kisses. “It could ride in the truck with us in the summers.” 

“Big dog or little dog?” Finn asks. “Mmm, yeah, that spot right there.”

Puck grins, his lips still pressed against Finn’s skin, and he keeps kissing Finn. “Like a lab or a German shepherd. So it can walk around the campgrounds with us without having to run tiny legs really fast to keep up.” 

“Something that doesn’t shed a lot would be good,” Finn says.

“Yeah, no Irish setters,” Puck says. He moves his hands slowly up Finn’s chest, pulling Finn’s t-shirt up at the same time. “We’ll get him a bandana to tie over his collar.” 

“That would be so cute,” Finn says. “With, like, an American flag on it for our road trips.” He raises his arms so Puck can pull his shirt off.

Puck pulls away enough to remove Finn’s shirt, and he starts kissing Finn’s neck again as he tosses the shirt onto the floor. “Yeah, we’ll make sure he’s well-trained,” Puck says. “Any special requests?” 

“For the dog?”

“Dog. Life. Sex. Take your pick.” 

“Sex,” Finn says. “I pick sex.”

“Good choice,” Puck says, kissing the tops of Finn’s shoulders, alternating from side to side. “I agree with it.” He moves his hands down Finn’s chest, sliding one hand under the waistbands of Finn’s shorts and boxers, then wrapping his fingers around Finn’s dick loosely. “Are _you_ relaxed?” 

“Yeah. I’m relaxed,” Finn says. 

Puck’s pretty sure that Finn may be relaxed, but also nervous alongside it, and he slowly moves his hand while he keeps kissing Finn’s shoulders and upper back. “Good. You want to lie down now, or you want me to keep doing this for a little while?”

“Either’s good. Lie down, maybe,” Finn says.

“Okay,” Puck says, moving to the side but keeping his hand on Finn’s dick as he lies down and pulls Finn with him. He turns on his side, his hand moving on Finn again once Finn is on his back. “I didn’t feel like stopping with the touching you part, though,” Puck says with a grin. 

“Yeah, me either,” Finn says, smiling at Puck. 

“Maybe you should take your shorts off, though,” Puck says, stroking a little faster. Finn nods and lifts his hips, pushing down his shorts and boxers. Puck puts his lips on Finn’s shoulder, kissing along his collarbones while he keeps his hand moving, and he watches Finn’s face. Finn’s eyelids flutter closed, and he brings one hand up to the back of Puck’s head, gently moving his fingers through Puck’s short hair. 

Puck tightens his hand a little, moving it faster as he lifts up to kiss across to Finn’s other shoulder, and then puts his lips to Finn’s, kissing him hard. Finn makes little moans into Puck’s mouth as they kiss, lifting his hips to thrust up into Puck’s hand. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Puck mutters. 

“No, _you_ are,” Finn says, eyes still closed. “You’re hot.”

Puck laughs. “We can both be hot,” he says, keeping his hand moving on Finn’s dick. “That’s awesome, right?” 

“Yeah. Everything you do to me is awesome,” Finn says.

“We’ll enter some kind of hot couple contest,” Puck says. He kisses Finn again, harder than before, and speeds up the movement of his hand. 

“Yeah—oh fuck—we’d win,” Finn says. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Puck says, squeezing his hand slightly around Finn. “You should come in my hand now.” 

Finn cries out softly as he comes in Puck’s hand. Puck keeps his hand moving until Finn is completely still and a little boneless, and he kisses Finn again as he reaches for the lube and then moves between Finn’s legs. 

“Bend your knees a little,” he says quietly. Finn does that, opening his eyes to watch Puck. Puck grins at him as he opens the lube, putting some on his fingers before putting the lube down again. “Yeah, that’s good.” 

Puck runs his un-lubed hand down Finn’s inner thigh, then drags his fingers lightly over Finn’s dick while his other hand hovers near Finn’s hole. Puck moves his hand to Finn’s hip and slowly pushes one finger just inside Finn.

“Good so far?” Puck asks. 

“I think so,” Finn says.

“You look good,” Puck says, grinning again. “You feel good, too.” He pushes his finger slightly farther in, moving it slowly in and out. Finn makes a few soft sounds, his eyes closing. Puck moves closer, his free hand going to Finn’s thigh again, and watches his finger go as deep as it can. “Talk to me.” 

“What should I say?” Finn asks. 

“Tell me how you feel, if I need to do anything differently,” Puck says. 

“I don’t know,” Finn says. “I don’t know how to tell. I think it’s good.”

“Do you want me to use two fingers now?” 

“Probably?” Finn says, then laughs a little. “This is really different, being on this end of it.”

“Tell me about it,” Puck says with a grin. “Usually I don’t have to do so much of the work.” He pushes a second finger in slowly, his eyes going between his hand and Finn’s face. Finn’s mouth falls open slightly as he inhales and exhales loudly.

“It’s cool. A little uncomfortable, but good, too,” Finn says.

“Yeah, I still don’t know how to describe it,” Puck admits, pulling his fingers out most of the way before pushing them back into Finn. “You’re so warm. And tight.” 

“Yeah, that’s how you are, too,” Finn says. “Think about how it’s going to feel when you’re inside me. It’s even awesomer than you’d think.”

“Yeah? It feels pretty awesome from my usual end, too,” Puck says. “Bring your legs back a little more.” Finn moves his legs back, opening his eyes again to watch Puck. “Yeah, like that.” Puck pushes his fingers in deliberately slowly, then pulls them out a little more rapidly. Finn gasps and moans, his eyes opening wider.

“I like that,” Finn says. 

Puck grins and does it again, repeatedly, watching Finn. “Good. You want a third finger, or should we skip it?” 

“I didn’t let _you_ skip it,” Finn says. 

“Maybe I’m nicer than you.” 

“Then we should skip it.”

Puck laughs. “Okay.” He removes his fingers and squirts more lube onto his hand before running his hand over his dick a few times. “Like this?”

“I guess,” Finn says. “I’m not, like, the expert.”

“I mean, if you want to change position or anything, now’s your chance,” Puck says. 

“No, I think this is good,” Finn says. 

“Okay.” Puck runs his hand down Finn’s inner thigh a few more times as he moves closer, his dick nudging at Finn’s hole, and then he slowly pushes forward. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Finn says softly. “Keep going. It’s good.”

Puck nods and does just that, his dick slowly sliding inside Finn, and he leans against Finn, both hands on Finn’s legs. “Fuck, yeah, that’s really tight,” he says, exhaling and trying not to thrust forward. “And warm.” 

“Yeah,” Finn breathes. “Don’t stop. Just keep going.”

“Okay. I won’t,” Puck says, but he doesn’t move any faster, either, and he doesn’t know how much time passes before he stops, completely inside Finn. He moves his hands off Finn’s legs, leaning forward. “Wow. Okay. Good?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. God, Puck, that’s really good.” Finn’s eyes are closed again, one of his arms thrown over his head and resting against the pillow, the other reaching for Puck to pull him closer. 

Puck barely pulls back before thrusting back in, and he grins a little. “Want me to move?” 

“Yeah, you should,” Finn says.

“Good,” Puck says, and he pulls back quickly before pushing in slowly, just like he had done with his fingers. “You liked that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s really good,” Finn says. “I like that.”

Puck grins and reaches for Finn’s legs, pushing them up a little as he thrusts into Finn. “I could just go slow if you want.” 

“I don’t want you to. I don’t want you to go slow. I want you to keep doing it like this,” Finn says, sounding a little whiny.

Puck laughs, squeezing Finn a little with his hands. “Yeah, I bet. You want me to jerk you off?” 

“Yeah, that would be _awesome_ ,” Finn says.

Puck moves one hand to Finn’s dick, the hand still a little slippery and sticky from the lube, and then starts stroking Finn as he thrusts, his hand speeding up a little each time Puck pulls back. “You feel awesome,” he says quietly. 

“Yeah, we’re both awesome,” Finn says. He lifts his hips off the bed to meet Puck’s thrusts, one hand curving around Puck’s waist. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Puck keeps interspersing slow and fast strokes as he thrusts into Finn, until he realizes he’s speeding up. “Fuck, Finn, you’re so tight. So hot.” 

“You feel so good inside me, Puck,” Finn says, putting the hand that had been over his head on Puck’s chest, palm flat against Puck’s skin. “Keep going. I’m getting really close.”

“I can make it last longer,” Puck says, clearly teasing. “I could go _really_ slow.” 

“Puuuuuck,” Finn whines, bringing his hips up off the bed faster and harder, forcing Puck to push deeper inside him.

“No?” Puck laughs and thrusts even faster, his hand tightening on Finn’s dick. “Guess you’d better come for me, then.” 

“Yeah?” Finn asks.

“Yeah.” Puck closes his eyes as he thrusts in harder than before, his hand moving rapidly. Finn lets out a loud sound and starts to come all over Puck’s hand. Puck moves his hand as Finn stills, propping himself up as he keeps thrusting into Finn. “Yeah,” Puck repeats, and he comes after three or four more thrusts, pushing deep into Finn and barely holding himself up. Puck collapses on top of Finn moments later, eyes still closed. 

“That was _awesome_ ,” Finn says quietly, after a few minutes have passed.

Puck grins without opening his eyes. “Yeah, it was,” he agrees. “You liked it?” 

“Yeah. It was really good.”

“Just as awesome as fucking me?” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Different awesome, but still awesome.”

“Cool,” Puck says, sliding out of Finn and then lying down again, this time only half on top of Finn. “You want to nap?”

“Yeah,” Finn says, wrapping both his arms around Puck. Puck nods, putting his head on Finn’s shoulder and one arm across Finn’s chest. 

“I love you.” 

“Mmmhmm, love you, too,” Finn says, already sounding like he’s drifting off. Puck grins to himself, listening to Finn’s breathing until it gets more even and slow, and Puck can feel himself about to fall asleep, too. 

They wait until Friday to use the Lost Sock, and the Hotcakes Cafe has enough variety and is cheap enough that they don’t have to go anywhere else to get food, which Puck figures should make Burt happy: less gas on the gas card in the long run. On Saturday, while Finn naps, Puck organizes all of the damn fliers, putting some in a pile that’s only to prove to Carole that they went to the school, and dividing some of the others up between the rest of New Directions. 

Puck puts the UT-Austin stuff in their personal stuff, though, and after a little while of staring at all the floral, he does the same with the William and Mary stuff, too. Even though he’s pretty sure they’re not smart enough to go there, it was still pretty cool, and he doesn’t really want to tell anyone else about it. He finds a brochure from Winthrop in South Carolina, which he has zero recollection of, and adds it to the pile for the rest of New Directions. 

When they get ready to leave, early on Monday morning, Puck is pretty sure that they’re leaving the room almost as clean as they found it, except for the bed, but he’s equally sure he has no desire to go back to North Dakota, as desolate as it looks as they head out.


	43. Minnesota

Two hours into the three and a half hour drive to Minneapolis, one of their phones rings, and Puck picks it up skeptically. “Not Burt,” he says to Finn quickly. “Quinn.” 

“Quinn?” Finn asks. “ _Why_?”

“Maybe she wants to know where to apply to college. Quinn seems like the type who’d start her applications early,” Puck says, shrugging before answering the phone. “Hey, Quinn.” 

“Hi, Puck,” Quinn says. “Is this a bad time?”

“Nah, we’re driving,” Puck says. “What’s up?” 

“I’ve heard some interesting stories the past two weeks or so, and I decided I’d actually talk to you myself before I believed any of them,” Quinn says.

“We were never in Baja California,” Puck says. “I just told Burt that so he wouldn’t know where we really were.” 

“And the whirlwind elopement?”

Puck laughs. “Hey, Finn, we apparently eloped!” 

“Sweet! Does that mean we can register at Target?” Finn asks.

“No, let’s ask for a tent,” Puck says. “I don’t think they sell tents at Target. Yeah, no eloping, Quinn.” 

“But you _are_ together now,” Quinn says. “Right?”

“Yeah, that part’s right,” Puck says. “Since Texas. Texas the first time. Which was before the Fourth of July. Is it still July?” 

“No, it’s the first of August,” Quinn says.

“Okay, yeah, over a month then,” Puck says, grinning at Finn. 

“Well, congratulations, I guess,” Quinn says. “And why, exactly, are you driving across the country? Is it really to look at colleges?”

“Well, yeah, we found a couple of cool places, and some places for the rest of you, too,” Puck says. “I went through it all Saturday afternoon and we didn’t really find that many good options for Artie yet, and we have a lot of places we want to ship Santana to, but I might’ve had ulterior motives,” Puck says, looking at Finn and grinning. 

Quinn laughs. “I can see that, based on the version of the story _she’s_ telling. Something about a clinic for terminal venereal diseases.”

“She _did_ call at seven in the morning,” Puck says, “but she was also being a jackass.” 

“Sounds like Santana,” Quinn says. “Did you find any colleges for me?”

“Yeah, this one place had justice and peace studies,” Puck says. “But we don’t hate you enough to send you to LA, so you can’t go to UCLA.” 

“Justice and peace studies? That sounds interesting. I’ll look forward to seeing it,” Quinn says.

“You’ll have to wait until school starts, though, if you were trying to get a jump start on applications or something.” 

“I just want to keep my options open,” Quinn says. “It was nice talking to you, Puck.”

“Yeah, you too. You can let people think what they want about the elopement thing, but if you wanted to tell people there’s no STDs involved, that’d be cool,” Puck says, making a face. 

“I’ll do that. Drive safely.”

Puck ends the call and puts the phone down, looking over at Finn. “Santana’s telling people we’re at a clinic for terminal VD.” 

“Ew. That’s tacky and mean,” Finn says, wrinkling up his face. “Why is she like that?”

“Don’t ask me,” Puck says, shrugging. “I guess she doesn’t have anything better to do.” 

“She’s mean sometimes,” Finn says.

“Most of the time. Oh, wait a second.” 

“What?”

“Do we need to figure out when?” Puck asks. “The exact date, I mean?” 

“The exact date of what?” Finn says.

“Texas,” Puck says. “I mean, we know it was June.” 

“Oh,” Finn says. “Maybe? Is the exact date important to you?”

“Not really,” Puck admits. “I just thought I’d see if you wanted to know.” He grins. “You know, so you could anticipate that corsage of daisies.” 

“I mean, yeah, we got together in Texas, but it’s kind of the whole trip,” Finn says. “And I’m good with us knowing the place and the kinda-date.”

“So we’ll just keep taking road trips every summer, then,” Puck says. “Works for me.” 

“Me, too,” Finn says.

“Maybe I’ll turn our phones off again for awhile,” Puck says. “Just to make sure.” 

“Yeah, sounds good to me.”


	44. Michigan

 “I’ve changed my mind,” Puck announces as they drive through the upper peninsula portion of Michigan on Thursday morning. “We should send Santana here. You know why?”

“Why?”

“First of all, Escanaba is in the middle of nothing, and secondly, I think loss prevention management sounds like the perfect major for Santana,” Puck says with a wide grin. “Don’t you?” 

“Yeah, I think it does sound perfect,” Finn says. “Maybe she could graduate early and go ahead and go.”

“We could send in her application for her, just to make sure it doesn’t get lost,” Puck adds. “At least we can sleep in one of these national or state forests tonight.” He looks down at the huge college guide, which is pretty battered from all the states they’ve driven through. “The book says people should apply more than one place. Any other city you liked well enough to apply somewhere near it?” 

“The whole state of Colorado was pretty nice,” Finn says, grinning at Puck.

Puck grins back. “Yeah, even if we don’t remember much of the scenery, right? But there’s a place just north of Austin we can apply to, too.”

“Sure,” Finn says. “I just really like Austin a lot.”

“Yeah, me too,” Puck says. “If we did two schools in Austin and, I don’t know, one in Colorado, we’d probably be good, right?” 

“Yeah, I think so.”

Puck grins. “I looked up a few things, though, and I think I know what we should do for the essay on the applications.” 

“Oh yeah?” Finn asks. 

“We can write about our summer,” Puck says. “Probably not too much about the parts in motel rooms.” 

“I bet most people applying for college didn’t spend the summer going to forty-eight states,” Finn says. 

“I bet most of them didn’t even go to five states.” 

“So our essay will be, like, ten times better than theirs!”

Puck grins again. “We’re shoo-ins.”


	45. Wisconsin

Puck and Finn take a long weekend on the U.P. before driving into Wisconsin on Monday morning, and by early afternoon, they have a flier from Lawrence University, which Puck adds to the “New Directions” pile. 

“I don’t think we should tell people,” Puck says as they drive out of Appleton. 

“Tell them what?” Finn asks.

“What we want to do. Where we’re applying, even,” Puck says. “Some of ’em would laugh, and some of ’em would try to talk us out of some part of it.” 

“Okay,” Finn says. “I was worried you meant about you and me, since everybody pretty much already knows that.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, that’s out of the bag. Nah, just… like, I guess telling your mom is okay, but not letting Kurt hear, you know?” 

“Makes sense,” Finn says.

“We’re not as stupid as they think we are,” Puck says thoughtfully. “Some of them like to make some interesting assumptions.” 

Finn nods. “I can keep a secret if you can.”

“We should tell them about our road trip plans, though. Somebody might have an old camp stove or some other gear they’d give us.” 

“Oh yeah, sweet,” Finn says. “We should pick out our own tent, though. Sleeping bags, too.”

“Air mattress,” Puck says, shaking his head. “We should just get an air mattress and some blankets.” 

“What if we want to camp someplace really cold, though?”

“Like Alaska?” Puck asks. 

“Yeah, or North Dakota in the winter,” Finn says. “Or, I don’t know. Maine in the winter.”

“So maybe… down sleeping bags,” Puck says. “But the kind we can zip together, so we’re still on the air mattress.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Finn agrees.

“And washable down. Or a washable inside,” Puck says after another minute. 

Finn laughs, nodding. “Yeah. Could be a problem if we couldn’t wash them.”

“I’m just thinking about ways to stay warm,” Puck says with his own laugh. 

“Yeah, ’cause you’re smart,” Finn says. “I bet you could come up with lots of good ways.”

“Oh, we don’t need _that_ many, do we?” Puck says, still grinning. 

Finn shrugs. “Might want to have a longer list, so we don’t get bored,” he says.

“Variations on the same few?” 

“Yeah, that’ll probably do it.”

“I mean, if you’d rather just buy a lot of wool sweaters,” Puck says teasingly, “but I thought skin to skin was better.”

“We should probably pull the truck over right now and try some of that, just in case,” Finn says.

Puck grins. “Head towards the lake and turn up the air conditioning on the way, just so we can test it out?” 

Finn responds with his own grin. “Exactly what I was thinking!”


	46. Illinois

“We really should hit two places once we get to Chicago,” Puck says as they pass a sign for Highland Park. 

“Are they food places?” Finn asks. “’Cause I’m really hungry.”

“We’ll get a Chicago dog,” Puck says. “And some Chicago-style pizza. Maybe find a hostel for the night? But no, we don’t have _anywhere_ for Mike.” 

“Do they have a dancing school in Chicago?” 

“There’s a college with a good dance school, and this dance company has a two-year program that’s just dancing,” Puck says. “I figured we could get a flier or something for both of those.” 

“Yeah, cool,” Finn says. 

“I mean, maybe there would have been a good dance school in LA,” Puck says. “We didn’t really check.” 

Finn shudders. “And we never will. Ever.”

“I take it we’re going to be Disney World people, and not Disneyland?” 

“Yeah, ’cause I’m never going back to LA, ever.”

“Not even if—” Puck cuts himself off suddenly, shaking his head a little.

“What?” Finn asks. “If what?”

Puck doesn’t say anything, looking away from Finn and staring out the window, trying to collect his thoughts. He isn’t sure how to ask the question, or if he even should ask it. 

Finn reaches over and pokes Puck in the shoulder. “What?”

“What if we have a kid who really wants to go to California Adventure?” Puck finally says, going back to exactly what he was originally going to ask. 

Without even pausing to think about it, Finn asks, “Did we try bribing her with Universal Studios, too?”

“Harry Potter _is_ in Orlando,” Puck says, nodding a little. “That might work.” 

“Or we could get Grandma Carole to take her for her eighth birthday,” Finn suggests.

Puck grins and laughs for a few seconds. “Yeah, she’ll get better souvenirs that way, too.” 

“Exactly!”

“Guess that answers that question,” Puck says. 

“Yep,” Finn says.

“Maybe just one, though.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says. “We could camp and stuff with one, but two or three would just make it crazy.”

“Us, one kid, and a dog,” Puck says. “That sounds pretty good, actually.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says.

“No bats?” 

“No bats.”

“I think I’ll survive without a bat. Maybe I’ll look into those flu shot things?” Puck says. 

“Yeah, I think that would be a good idea,” Finn says. “We’ll find out if they have the Albanian kind.”

“Any kind. I think Albania probably can’t get me again,” Puck says. “I found a hostel, but the walls are lime green.” 

“We can wear our sunglasses inside,” Finn says. 

“Or just turn out the lights. It’s cheap enough we should do two nights, probably.” 

“Cool. Lots to do in Chicago, I bet!” Finn says. “We should do some famous Chicago things. See some sights or something.”

“Probably can’t afford a Cubs game, though,” Puck says. 

“Too bad. That would be cool.”

“Yeah.” Puck picks up one of their phones and starts a search. “You know, though…” He waits on the page to load, then grins. “Think we can scam some extra money out of our moms before a week from Friday?” 

“Maybe. I’ll try, anyway,” Finn says. 

“Browns preseason game. Timing should work out for us to be in Cleveland that night,” Puck explains. 

“Awesome!”

“Only three more states after this one. That feels weird,” Puck says. 

“Maybe it’s not too late to go to Alaska or something,” Finn says.

“We can try it during a break. We’re not going to want to sit around Lima for a week or more.” 

“I don’t want to sit around Lima at all anymore.”

“Well, yeah,” Puck says, shrugging a little. “Just think of it as time to get our stuff and save up some money.” 

“Yeah, I guess Mom probably won’t send me with the gas card next time,” Finn says.

Puck shakes his head. “We should get one, though. And hope she doesn’t make us pay off all of this summer’s.”

“I’m more worried about Burt than Mom,” Finn says. “I bet I’m going to be working in the shop after school all year.”

“Just remind your mom you have glee club and college applications and football and keeping your grades up,” Puck says. “That should keep him from making you work too much.” 

“I just have to do a really good job at all of those this year,” Finn says.

“We just won’t tell anyone when we finish our applications, so they can keep thinking we need time to work on them,” Puck says. “Then when we get our letters, we can surprise them.” 

“That’s a good idea!” Finn says.

“Maybe wear a t-shirt, even.” 

“And when people ask, ‘hey, why are you wearing that t-shirt’, we can tell them!”

“Good thing I got us each one, then,” Puck says with a grin. 

“For real?” Finn asks, returning Puck’s grin. “You’re so awesome.”

“That’s actually why I dragged you on the road trip,” Puck says jokingly. “Just to remind you how awesome I am.”

“My awesome boyfriend,” Finn says. He starts laughing, shaking his head. “The weirdest part about that is how it doesn’t feel weird, you know?”

Puck’s grin widens. “Like I said, I’m awesome. Guess that’s why.”


	47. Kentucky

“As much as I don’t want to stay close to Lima, this place might be a good backup school,” Puck says, a little grudgingly, as they leave Berea College on Friday afternoon, heading towards one of the campgrounds in Daniel Boone National Forest. 

“It’s far _enough_ from Lima,” Finn says. “It’s a whole state away.”

“And it’s basically free,” Puck says. “I don’t think anyone else falls into their preferred window or whatever, so I’ll stick it with our stuff.” 

“Cool.”

“But hey, a week from tonight we’ll be at the Browns game,” Puck says. “I almost can’t believe we managed that.” 

“Me, either,” Finn says. “I don’t like thinking about being back in Ohio, period.”

“The way I figure it… we put in our nine or so months, right, and then if we don’t want to, we don’t have to go back,” Puck says.

“I wouldn’t mind going back to visit my Mom or whoever. I just don’t want to go back for good,” Finn says. 

“Then we go for like… holidays and stuff,” Puck says, shrugging a little. “But it’s less than a year, anyway.” 

“Yeah. Then we’ll be in Texas or wherever!”

Puck grins. “Yeah, exactly.” He puts his hand on Finn’s leg, which is where he usually has it when they’re in the truck, and they drive in the same comfortable silence they’ve had for thousands of miles for a few more before Finn’s phone rings. Puck picks it up and raises his eyebrows as he points to it. 

“Is it Mom?” Finn asks.

“Yeah,” Puck says. “I guess we should answer it?” 

“Put it on speaker, I guess,” Finn says.

Puck nods and answers it, putting it on speaker before setting it on his leg. “Hey, Carole.” 

“Are you boys planning on actually finishing your high school education?” Carole asks.

“Yeah, of course we are, Mom,” Finn says. “School doesn’t start for like two weeks.”

“ _Less_ than two weeks, Finn Hudson,” Carole says. “When exactly are the two of you planning on coming home?”

“It’s not like we have to be there until that morning, right?” Puck says. “We’re not going to miss the first day of senior year.” 

“Noah!” Carole says. 

“He’s right,” Finn says. “And we’ll be back in time, I swear.”

“We’ll probably even be clean and wearing clean clothes when the bell rings,” Puck says. 

“Finn, you and I are having a long, _long_ discussion about this when you get home,” Carole says.

“Okay, Mom. See you in like two weeks or so!” Finn says, gesturing at Puck to end the call. 

Puck ends the call and then laughs. “What’s the discussion going to be? ‘Don’t ever do that the summer before your senior year again’?” 

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Finn says.

“Worst that happens, I have to sneak into your room at night because you’re ‘grounded’ or something, right?” 

“Yeah. Think you could climb up the tree to my window?” Finn asks. 

“Probably,” Puck says. “Haven’t had to since you moved. Maybe I’ll get some climbing shoes just in case.” 

“Wear a helmet.”

“Maybe we should just take up rock climbing as a hobby,” Puck says. “Then I’d have all the equipment, and we could probably practice it summers.” 

“Oh cool, yeah,” Finn says. “Except I don’t really like to be up high, remember?”

“Okay, I’ll take up rock climbing, and you can be the guy with the rope at the bottom?” Puck says. “What else uses a helmet? Caving, bicycling…” 

“Skateboarding. Snowboarding. Uh, roller derby?”

“Okay, I don’t think we should do roller derby as a hobby,” Puck says, shaking his head. “But hey, Colorado has skiing and snowboarding. We could do that on winter breaks.” 

“Cool. We could take skiing lessons or something,” Finn says.

“I’ll get a helmet for skiing and snowboarding, then,” Puck says. “As long as we don’t get caught, it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Plus, then we’ll know how to do cool snow sports.”

Puck grins. “It’s good to have hobbies.”


	48. Indiana

“This was the farthest from Ohio I could find a college in Indiana,” Puck says as they head towards the University of Evansville. 

“It’ll work,” Finn says. “Plus, avoiding Ohio as long as possible, right?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Puck picks up his phone and looks at the calendar, then frowns. “We should head back over on Sunday, but we can crash at my place. Mom’ll probably do our laundry, and we can get the truck washed before we go over to your place Monday.” 

“And we won’t mention to my mom that we really got in on Sunday?” Finn asks, sounding hopeful.

“Hell no,” Puck says, shaking his head. 

“Okay, then. Awesome.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah. Okay, get off here and take a right. Anyone who wants to stay close to home but not that close?” 

“I don’t know. Brittany, maybe?” Finn suggests. 

“Brittany, hmm.” Puck gestures towards the parking area, then looks back at the book. “Cognitive science? Sport management? Something creative-sounding like that.” 

“Yeah, she could be a sports manager or something,” Finn says, pulling into a parking spot. 

“You want me to just run in, so we can get back _out_ of Indiana?” Puck asks. 

“You know, yeah. That would rock, thanks.”

Puck grins, then leans over and kisses Finn. “I thought you’d like that.”


	49. West Virginia

“I have no idea who to send here,” Puck says as they leave the University of Charleston. “I mean, it’s nice-looking, and the state forest campgrounds look like they’ll be good, but it’s West Virginia.” 

“Maybe nobody. Maybe we leave fliers lying around the bathrooms or something for some random person,” Finn suggests. 

“Rick the Stick!” Puck says, laughing. “Or Jewfro.” 

“As long as they’re far, far away from me, dude,” Finn says. 

“Maybe they can go to college overseas,” Puck says. “This is weird. Tonight’s our last night not in Ohio.” 

“Yeah. We should do something special,” Finn says.

“Pick up a pizza on the way to the campground and go to bed early?” Puck says too innocently.

“I hadn’t thought about the pizza, but that part’s good, too!”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, we actually haven’t had pizza that many times. Easy clean-up so we can get on with that back of the truck sleeping,” Puck says. “Or not sleeping.”

“I vote for not sleeping,” Finn says.

“I thought you might.” Puck grins and points to the left. “Turn here and we can find Lola’s Pizza.” 

“Sounds good to me.”

Lola’s ends up having tables outside, so they eat their pizza there before going on to the campground, and it doesn’t take them long to get the back of the truck set up. Puck pulls off his t-shirt before lying down, then pulls the blanket up to his chest and kicks off his shorts. 

“As nice as the truck’s been, I won’t object to a tent,” Puck says. 

“With an air mattress,” Finn says. “And pillows. Why didn’t we think about bringing pillows?”

“If your mom had seen us bringing pillows, she would have figured out the whole two-month part even sooner,” Puck says. “And they wouldn’t have fit in our bags.” 

“We’ll get pillows just for traveling and keep ’em with our camping stuff,” Finn says.

“Some kind of waterproof ones, maybe,” Puck says. He rolls onto his side, facing Finn, and puts his arm over Finn. “Anything you wish we’d seen or done? We can make it the first stop next summer.” 

“Wish you’d told me sooner about how you felt,” Finn says, “so I could’ve given it a shot even earlier.”

“Should we hit the east and the south again so we can make out in every state?” 

“Yeah, I think that would be a good idea,” Finn says.

“Maybe a picture of us kissing in every state,” Puck says. “We might become internet-famous.” 

“Aww, yeah, we can, like, put them all together as a movie with music and post it on YouTube!” Finn says. 

“Exactly.” Puck nods and moves closer, pressing against Finn’s side. “We’ll come up with a catchy name and people will tweet about us.” 

“Maybe somebody would pay for us to go to the last two states to kiss there.”

“We _can_ drive to Alaska. Airline tickets to Hawaii would be awesome, though,” Puck says. “We’ll get there sooner or later.” 

“Yeah. Maybe we can go when we graduate from college,” Finn says.

“Happy graduation to us trip?” 

“Yeah, exactly!”

“That works,” Puck says, throwing his leg over Finn’s bare legs. “We can probably come up with at least one other reason to take a big trip, if we have to.” 

“I think that ‘because we want to’ is a good enough reason,” Finn says. “Or ‘because it’s fun to make out in different states’.”

“Yeah, but it’s fun to tell other people it’s about other stuff,” Puck says, leaning in and kissing Finn. “They might even believe us.” 

“Or we won’t tell them at all. We’ll just take off,” Finn says, putting his arm around Puck and kissing him back.

“Saves money on a lease for the summer,” Puck says. “Maybe we’ll tell the post office and no one else.” 

“Perfect.”


	50. Ohio Again

Puck is pretty sure that their reentry to Ohio is going as well as it can, starting with the Pro Football Hall of Fame on Friday and the Browns game on Friday night, and then the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame on Saturday. On Sunday, they drive back to Lima, timing it so they have enough time to drop off their laundry with Puck’s mom and then get the truck washed before dinner at Puck’s. 

Puck’s mom doesn’t look surprised about the two of them, and she doesn’t say anything about Finn spending the night. By the time Puck and Finn wake up on Monday morning, they’re the only ones there, and they take long hot showers before sorting out their laundry and getting dressed. 

“I guess we ought to head over to your place,” Puck says after they’ve put it off as much as they can. 

“Do we have to?” Finn asks. “Maybe we could wait until right before school in the morning.”

“Yeah, but Burt might be there in the morning. He’s probably not there right now,” Puck says. 

“I guess you’re right. Crap. I’m not ready for the summer to be over,” Finn says.

“Yeah, me either,” Puck says with a sigh, opening up the door and heading out. “It feels even weirder being back than I thought it would.”

“I’m ready to start college now, thanks,” Finn says, giving Puck a half-hearted smile.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Puck leans against the passenger side of the truck for a moment. “And people actually know who we are, around here. That’s weird too.”

“Yeah. I don’t think I like it.”

Puck shakes his head. “No.” They’re quiet on the short drive over to Finn’s, and Puck thinks about how weird it is that there’s only one bag in the truck, and they’re not looking at maps or figuring out where to sleep the next night. Puck has his hand on Finn’s leg still, though, and when they climb out, he takes Finn’s hand and keeps holding it as they head inside. 

“Welcome back,” Puck mutters when they walk in and see Kurt making out with Blaine in the front room. “Let’s just leave again,” he says more loudly, and Kurt and Blaine jump.

“Finn! Puck! You’re back!” Kurt says, hastily smoothing down his clothes. 

“Yeah, kinda had to,” Finn says. “School tomorrow, you know?”

“We thought about waiting until tomorrow morning, but we didn’t,” Puck says. “Finn’s got those fliers in his bag for you.” 

“That’s probably for the best,” Kurt says. “Carole’s been pacing and checking her phone.”

“Uh oh,” Finn says.

“We can try to make it to the stairs,” Puck says quietly. 

“Finn Hudson!” Carole’s voice suddenly says, shortly before Carole appears in the doorway from the kitchen. “I can _not_ believe that you took off on a cross-country road trip for the _entire summer_!”

“Hi, Mom,” Finn says, giving her a little wave.

“Don’t ‘hi Mom’ me, young man,” Carole says. “I have been worried sick about you! Noah getting hospitalized! Over a thousand dollars on the gas card! You could have been murdered by some crazy person in a truck stop and nobody would have even known to call me!”

“We more _were_ the crazy people at the truck stops,” Puck says. “And now I’m immune to Albanians.” 

“And _you_ , Noah Puckerman!” Carole says, wheeling in Puck’s direction and wagging her finger at him. “I’m sure this was your idea. What were the two of you thinking?”

“We needed to figure out colleges,” Puck says as innocently as he can.

“Mom, don’t yell at my boyfriend,” Finn says, putting his arm around Puck’s waist. “We’re fine, see?” He holds his other arm out and looks down at himself, then up at Carole, grinning.

“You look so tan,” Carole says, in a slightly calmer voice. “Just how many times, exactly, did you get sunburned?”

“Uh, just once or twice, I think,” Finn says. 

“Twice. I didn’t have to get out the after-sun after that,” Puck says. “Plus, you don’t really want to be outside in the Plains states.” 

“We got so many college fliers, too,” Finn says. “For the whole glee club! We even found some good ones for Kurt!”

Carole sighs and shakes her head. “You two,” she says, finally smiling. “I swear. You’re paying off that gas card, though.”

“I bet Burt’ll let me work it off at the shop,” Finn says.

Puck nudges his side. “Busy,” he hisses. “Remember?”

“ _Part_ of it, I mean,” Finn says. “It’s going to be a really busy year, with glee club, football, applying to all those colleges, plus, you want me to make really good grades this year, right?”

Carole sighs again. “I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement. College applications and other school activities are important,” she concedes.

“Cool. Thanks, Mom!”

Puck tries not to look too smug as they manage to get past Carole, heading up the stairs and finally making it into Finn’s room. They lock the door and take advantage of the real mattress, managing to forget for a little longer that they do have to go to school the next morning, and they’re back in Lima for most of the following nine months. 

Four of those months later, Puck grins to himself and texts Finn to meet him in Finn’s own backyard, eyes closed. He parks his own truck out front and looks in the seat beside him. 

“C’mon, little guy,” he says to the barely eight-week-old puppy, scooping him up in his arms and holding the leash, too. Puck goes around to the backyard, grinning again when he sees Finn. 

“Don’t open your eyes yet,” he calls. 

“If I trip and fall, I’m kicking your ass, though,” Finn calls back, slowly making his way into the yard, eyes closed. “Marco?”

Puck laughs and crosses the yard to Finn. “Hold still,” he says, then lifts the puppy up so he can sniff at Finn’s face. After five or six seconds, he licks across Finn’s cheek, and Puck laughs again.

“Bleh,” Finn says, wiping his face as he opens his eyes. “Why’d you— it’s a _puppy!_ ” He immediately starts grinning and holds his arms out for the puppy. “Oh my god, he’s so cute!”

“Happy early Hannu-mas or whatever,” Puck says, transferring the puppy to Finn’s arms. “He’s barely eight weeks, but he’ll stay short-haired like this.” 

“What kind is he? He looks like those Australian dogs!” Finn says, letting the puppy lick his face again. “Is he yours? What’s his name?”

“Yeah, he is,” Puck says. “And he doesn’t have a name yet. He’s yours. Or ours eventually, but like I said, happy Hannukah-Christmas-New Year’s early.”

“Oh my god, for real?” Finn puts the puppy down, and it darts across the yard, then runs back to Finn, sniffing his jeans. 

“For real,” Puck says, nodding. “You have to name him.”

“He’s going to be our camping dog,” Finn says, squatting so he can pet the puppy. “I think we should call him Trucker.”

“Cool.” Puck squats down beside Finn. “What do you think, Trucker? You like that name?” 

The puppy doesn’t answer, but he does run in circles around Finn and Puck for a few minutes before flopping over onto his side, exhausted. Finn scratches Trucker behind his ears and then scoops him up into his arms. 

“I think Trucker needs a nap,” Finn says. 

“Plus it’s getting cold out here,” Puck says, standing up. “We’ll probably want to get him a different collar and leash, but he’ll grow fast.” 

“I love him, Puck. Thank you!”

Puck grins and opens the door. “Good kind to get? We said bigger and no shedding.” 

“Yeah, he’s perfect,” Finn says. “And he’s already asleep, too.”

“I bet that part’ll change,” Puck says as they walk into the kitchen. “Hey, Carole, Burt, Kurt.” 

“Hello, Noah,” Carole says. “How are y— is that a _dog_?”

“His name’s Trucker,” Finn says. “He’s mine! Well, ours. Mine and Puck’s.”

“He’s still a puppy,” Puck says. “But he’s on puppy chow now.” 

“Finn, why do you have a puppy?” Carole asks.

“He’s my Christmas present from Puck,” Finn says.

“And he’s going to be living at Puck’s house?” Burt asks. “Right?”

“Uh…” Finn says, looking at Puck. “No?”

“You do have the fence around the backyard,” Puck says. “Plus your sibling won’t torture him.”

“You can’t just bring a dog into the house without asking anybody first,” Burt says.

“Does he shed?” Kurt asks. “More importantly, is he housebroken?”

“I don’t actually know the answer to that,” Finn admits. “Puck?”

“He doesn’t shed,” Puck says. “That’s part of the reason I got that kind.” He frowns a little, because of course an eight week old puppy isn’t housebroken. “He’s as housebroken as any other eight week old puppy,” he finally says. 

“He’ll stay in my room or outside,” Finn says. “If he pees on anything, I’ll clean it up, and I’ll get those puppy pad things for him. Come on, Mom. Please?”

“And what about when you leave for college in the fall?” Carole asks.

“He’ll come with us,” Puck says. “That’s kind of the point.” 

“What if you don’t get into the same school? And you know no dorms are going to allow dogs,” Carole says.

“Well, uh. About that,” Finn says, looking over at Puck and grinning. “There’s kind of something else we wanted to tell you.”

“Yeah, no worries on the same college thing,” Puck says, grinning back at Finn. “We’ve got that covered.” 

“Oh?” Burt asks. “How’s that?”

“We already both got accepted to UT Austin,” Finn says. “They have that rolling admission thingy.”

“Yep,” Puck says. “We’re going to Texas.”


	51. Alaska

Winter break senior year is just too busy to go to Alaska, between training Trucker and all the family obligations, so Puck maps out the route a second time, and as soon as school ends for spring break, they pack up the truck. 

They have an air mattress and their down sleeping bags by then, but not a tent or a camp stove, and they camp their way across Canada, running into increasingly deeper snow and worse roads as they go north and west. 

“This road’s closed, the secondary route’s closed, and this other road? Isn’t open in the winter at all,” Puck says with a sigh.

“But it’s not winter. It’s spring,” Finn protests.

“Not in Alaska,” Puck says. “Not in Canada, either, I guess. We can’t get more than another mile or two.” 

“Well, shit,” Finn says. “So, now what?”

“I guess we turn around,” Puck says, “and try again this summer?”

“I guess so,” Finn sighs. “Sorry, Trucker. No polar bears.”

Trucker lifts his head at his name, but when nothing is offered to him, he puts it back down, and Puck reaches over to scratch his head. “He’s already a good traveler.” 

“Yeah, that’s our good boy,” Finn says. “Back to Ohio, I guess.”

Alaska doesn’t happen that summer, either, because they have to sandwich their road trip in between shopping and orientation and moving, which means it’s the end of their freshman year at UT before they head north again. 

“C’mon, Trucker,” Puck says, opening the door to the truck so Trucker can jump in as they leave a truck stop in Yukon. “Almost to Alaska. Just a little bit more west.” 

“That’ll be forty-nine down, only one more to go,” Finn says. He starts the truck and heads back towards the road. 

“No luck yet on getting someone to sponsor our trip to Hawaii, though,” Puck says. “Next stop Fairbanks for now.”

Finn nods, not saying anything as they continue driving in comfortable silence, Trucker’s head sticking out the window with his tongue lolling. 

“I still can’t believe your mom was surprised we were taking a trip this summer,” Puck says just after they cross back into Alaska. “It’s the third summer now.”

“Yeah. I guess she figured we’d be bored with spending the whole summer on the road,” Finn says.

Puck snorts. “We’d be bored _not_ spending the summer on the road.”

Fairbanks has plenty of campgrounds, and they get the tent set up before heating up canned chili on the camp stove. After Trucker eats, they take him off the leash, and he runs in circles for a few minutes happily. The next day, they head out for some of the parks, intent on finding some wildlife and taking their Alaska picture. 

Trucker finds a moose before they even see the moose, and promptly tries to herd the very confused-looking moose. Even though Puck and Finn run after him pretty fast, Puck’s pretty sure that it’s more how they have Trucker trained that keeps Trucker from herding the moose all the way back to the truck. 

They head straight for the showers when they get back, then take advantage of a mostly-deserted campground, spending the rest of the afternoon in the tent. When they emerge, still shirtless, Puck digs through their food bin. 

“More chili?” he says, sitting on the edge of the tailgate. “We’ve got Spam, too.” 

“Nah, I’m good,” Finn says. “But I think I’ve figured out how to get us to Hawaii.”

“Yeah? Secret connection with an airline?” 

“Not exactly. It’s more, like, dependent on how you answer this question,” Finn says.

“Huh?” Puck says, watching Trucker chase some kind of animal that looks like a weasel. 

“Do you want to get married?” Finn asks. “I mean, do you want to marry me?”

Puck looks over at Finn and grins. “Not going to marry anyone else,” he says. “Yeah. Yeah, we should do that.” 

“So… _will_ you marry me?” Finn asks. “Like, this is a proposal.”

“Yeah, I will,” Puck says, still grinning. 

“Awesome!” Finn says. “The way I figured it, if we keep the wedding really cheap, we could probably get my mom and Burt to help us pay to go to Hawaii for the honeymoon!”

“What do we need for a wedding?” Puck says. “You, me, someone to do the ceremony, right?” 

“And rings,” Finn says. “Trucker could be the ringbearer.”

“He’d be good at that,” Puck says, leaning against Finn. “Tie them around his neck instead of his bandana?”

“It would be cute, huh?”

“Yeah, it would be,” Puck says. “So you, me, rings, Trucker, and someone to do the ceremony. In some state.” 

“We’ll figure the state part out,” Finn says.

“Still should be plenty for Hawaii, like you said.” Puck squeezes Finn’s hand and then calls to Trucker. “Hey, boy, come here, we’re going to teach you something new to do!”


	52. Hawaii

“We made it!” Puck says as they exit the plane. 

“Do you think Trucker misses us?” Finn asks, adjusting his carry-on bag over his shoulder.

“He’s with Tina. He’ll be fine. He’ll probably like eastern Washington even better than he liked Alaska,” Puck says. 

“Maybe we should call later,” Finn says. “Get Tina to put us on speaker so we can talk to him.”

“I _think_ we’ll be busy later,” Puck says, putting his arm around Finn. “Do you _really_ want to spend our first hours in Hawaii—on our honeymoon—talking to Trucker on the phone?” 

Finn smiles sheepishly. “No. Probably not.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Puck says, grinning at Finn as they walk through the airport towards the rental car counter. Driving to the hotel feels normal for summer, at least, with Finn driving and Puck giving the directions. Once they arrive, Puck puts his arm around Finn again and they head to the front desk to check in. 

“Thank you for choosing us as your honeymoon destination,” the concierge says, as she hands a pair of keycards to Puck. “We’re currently serving a complimentary luau banquet on the back patio, if you’d like the bellhop to take your bags up to the room.”

“Sure,” Puck says, exchanging a glance with Finn before they hand over their bags, along with a tip. They follow the signs to the back patio, and once they step outside, Puck grins. “Yeah, this is Hawaii.” 

“Wow. Look at the ocean,” Finn says, gesturing at the white sand beach visible beyond the patio. “It’s so clear!”

“Yeah, hard to believe this is the same ocean we saw in California,” Puck says. “What’s a luau banquet involve?”

“I bet it’s one of those pigs,” Finn says. “Ooh, open bar! You get us a seat, and I’ll get us drinks?”

“Sure,” Puck says, heading towards the small tables set up and picking one near the edge of the grouping. Looking around, Puck decides that most of the people there are on honeymoons or second honeymoons, and no one seems too interested in small talk, which is good, because he doesn’t want the two of them to get trapped in small talk after drinks and food. 

Finn’s voice suddenly comes from behind Puck, while Finn’s arm reaches around Puck to set a frozen drink on the table. “ _Do you like piña coladas?_ ” Finn sings.

Puck starts laughing. “Are you going to wake me up with one the whole time we’re here?”

“Mmhmm,” Finn says, kissing the back of Puck’s neck. “We don’t have to just drink those the whole time, though. They have all kinds of drinks.”

“Yeah, but that’s good. Means we’ll be up late enough to really sleep in.” 

“The bartender says they have Hawaiian dancers performing when the sun sets,” Finn says, continuing to kiss Puck’s neck. “Did you want to stay out here for the sunset and the dancers?”

“Are you going to dance?” Puck asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Nope.”

“If we go up to our room will you dance?” 

“Maybe,” Finn says. “Drink your piña colada.”

“Our room’s supposed to have a view of the sunset,” Puck says, picking up his glass and taking a drink. “If you danced naked, it’d definitely be better entertainment up there.” 

“I’m not making any promises,” Finn says, sitting down next to Puck with his own piña colada. 

“I can make sad Trucker eyes at you,” Puck says. “Or pout.” 

“Just drink your drink,” Finn says. He holds up his glass, gesturing at Puck’s. “I feel like we should toast to something. Other than being married, I mean.”

“We did the toast to being married yesterday,” Puck says. “This is our last stop. Until Puerto Rico joins up.”

“To fifty states?” Finn asks.

Puck lifts up his glass and nods. “To fifty states.”


End file.
